The Mind's Grey Area
by Continuum Regained
Summary: What happens when you've run out of places to run? When behind every door, there's an enemy? When up every sleeve, there's a trick? Who do you turn to, who can you trust? Where do you go? . . . . . You don't GO anywhere. You wake up in The Estate.
1. The Construct

**Chapter One - The Construct**

_**Update: Now that the semester is over, I'll be updating with more regularity.**_

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**Alvin and Dr. Gregor stood side by side, gazing into the flickering light of a blue computer console. The flat-screen monitor displayed a hazy aerial view of a mansion surrounded by a dense forest. Blue light from the monitor shone against Alvin's brown fur and the doctor's pale skin. The screen was the only source of light in the room. Beyond the two clearly visible faces was nothing but darkness.**

**"It isn't real." Dr. Gregor said, not breaking his gaze. "But it can still harm you."**

**Alvin breathed out softly before answering. He too would not turn his eyes away from the computer screen. "Doctor, I'm not gonna to pretend to know what you're talking about…" He paused for a moment. The chair he was standing on creaked as he leaned closer to the screen. He stared intently at image of the massive white door leading into the mansion.**

**"…but if you say I can go there and bring Simon back, I'm onboard."**

**Dr. Gregor glanced down at the chipmunk. Alvin stood wearing a hoodless red sweatshirt. His back was hunched and his eyes were wide, all giving the impression of an extraordinarily nervous person. From this angle, the doctor was able to see the square of freshly-shaven skin on the back of Alvin's neck. He looked back at the monitor and smiled.**

**"I was hoping you'd say that."**

**The doctor stood up to usher Alvin away from the chair and into the darkness.**

**"This will be a little disorienting."**

**. . . . . . . . . .**

Cold. Hard. Unforgiving. Just a blurry mass. An unyielding plane stretching out to infinity.

Sharp. Pointed. Painful. Unwanted. Suffocating.

Nothingness. Emptiness. Dark.

Dark.

Dark.

Quiet. The world was empty; blank and shrouded in fog. Nothing outside. Nothing at all. Just…

Trees. Trees covering the uneven, slowly rolling terrain as far as the eye could see. Tall, mature evergreen trees covering all the ground in the vicinity, forming an impenetrable forest. A forest so dense that a person could scarcely force his way through it; so dark in the faint starlight that no one would dare do so. An unrelenting wall cut only by…

Crashing. Crashing of waves upon rock. There was an ocean in the darkness beyond.

From the perspective of the Estate, the Ocean could not be seen; only heard echoing through the forest. Sound flooded through the tree-line, over cement, past decorative shrubs, up pristine white stone walls. The soft sounds of the Ocean diverged around the walls of the building, bathing the entirety of the Estate on the hill with white noise.

Echoes traveled up the walls, past windows, over the green shingles of the roof, over the tops of the two chimneys, and back down again on the southern face of the house.

The sounds of the Ocean echoed up to the second floor balcony, through the open glass doors of the bedroom, bringing with it a breeze to stir the white linen curtains.

The thunder of crashing waves in the unseen distance reverberated throughout the large master bedroom, against the green walls, over the fireplace, past beautiful couches and lavish area rugs.

The ominous roar continued in to the center of the room, to the bed positioned there and finally to the bed's occupant. Simon listened attentively as the constant noise of the waves made its way into his ears, causing them to perk in the direction of the open door. His eyes were open. He focused on the white ceiling.

Lights from the garden and the driveway below beamed brightly enough to illuminate the balcony. The soft yellow light was caught by the curtains, which now thrashed more violently in the ever strengthening breeze, and caused them to glow. This light shone softly into the rest of the bedroom, casting faint shadows on the white carpeted floor and glinting against Simon's blue eyes. His gaze remained fixed on the ceiling.

The breeze had now strengthened into a strong wind. On the other end of the room, the curtains whipped against the ceiling repeatedly. Trees could be heard rustling off in the distance, and all the time, the sound of the crashing waves grew louder. A black book on an ornate coffee table shook slightly as the wind nearly lifted the cover. Simon's mind raced, but his gaze was unwavering.

On either side of the glass French door was a window that spanned floor to ceiling. Both were adorned with the same linen curtains that now also twisted and flailed in the breeze. The windows themselves strained under the force of the wind.

Outside, the once calm breeze had grown into a gale. The wind howled through the expanse of forest and broke violently on the north face of the Estate. The originally dim starlight was now darkened completely by storm clouds. Inside the bedroom, the strong wind was threatening to throw the sheets from Simon's bed. Yet his eyes did not move.

The sound of the Ocean had now amplified into a roar which drowned out the thrashing of the evergreens and the howl of the wind. Violent crashes of waves and the thunder of rushing water could be heard clearly in the Estate's bedroom. The wind gusted, throwing the curtains completely back, letting more light from below into the room. The book on the coffee table slid.

Simon felt his heart skip a beat, but did not dare refocus his eyes.

The wind became even stronger. The walls of the Estate groaned from the pressure and the windows whined, as if about to break. Paintings on the wall fell from their hooks and blew to the end of the room. Twigs and leaves from the shrubs below accumulated in the room along with the fallen artwork. Pillows from the luxurious couches and chairs in the room also were lifted from their places and thrown across the room.

Another gust, and the curtains on the door began to tear.

The book on the table slid again. It now teetered over the edge, ready to fall.

Although he did not turn his head to look, Simon was aware of this. His stomach twisted as he thought of the book opening, but all the while he kept his eyes focused on the featureless white ceiling.

The wind whistled against the frame of the door. The latches on the windows seemed about to break. One final gust came barreling through the open door.

The book slid off the table. Simon blinked. Time seemed to slow. The pages fluttered as the book opened and fell towards the floor. The cover folded backwards and the open pages shifted in the wind. A soft tap could be heard as the cover finally made contact with the floor.

Simon shifted his eyes, and then turned his head toward the coffee table. The black book struck the floor and bounced once, only to come to rest on the white carpet with its pages wide open. Immediately, the wind died down. Simon sat up in his bed.

The howl of the wind and the thrashing of the trees could no longer be heard. Only the sound of the Ocean was still audible, but only just. However, this was of no concern to Simon. His attention was now fixed on the book that had fallen.

All was quiet again. The curtains on the door came to a gentle rest against the frame.

All was quiet.

All was quiet.

Then, in an instant, the roar of the Ocean returned, now louder than ever. The sound of rushing water seemed impossibly close now. But Simon did not remove his gaze from the book, even as he felt a fine mist spray against his face.

The sound of the Ocean thundered as water rushed onto the second floor balcony. Powerful waves broke upon the wall and funneled into the open door. The immense force of the water shattered the windows. Water now rushed in from the entire north-facing wall of the bedroom. Simon continued to stare at his book as cold water flooded in, lifting up end tables and couches, and finally reaching the book. Water surrounded it and violently lifted it into the crest of the wave.

Simon sat motionless in his bed and watched as the water surged and crushed him.

His eyes snapped open as he woke. Simon gazed up at the ceiling of his room in the Estate. On the other end of the room, the door was open and the curtains fluttered peacefully. Sunlight poured in through the door and windows. The soft sound of the Ocean could be heard in the distance. He sat up to examine his surroundings. The coffee table in front of the door stood unharmed. There was no black book upon it.

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_**Reviews are appreciated, but not required. Just read.**_


	2. The Short and the Long Term

**Chapter Two - The Short and the Long Term**

_**This chapter is in some ways part two of the introduction. Not much action, but a lot of important details.**_

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The ceiling fan just beyond Simon's bed spun at a leisurely pace. A slight trickle of breeze could be felt as its blades pushed the air. The fan itself was quiet. The motor made no noise. All that could be heard was the faintest whoosh of air every time it made a full revolution.

The motion of the fan reflected the train of thought he was dwelling on. He felt a dull sense of uncertainty coupled with the distinct edge of fear. These feelings brought up strange questions. Questions without real answers. The most pervasive of these was simply: "What am I doing here?" These thoughts fed back into the feelings of confusion and fear. It was a loop, spinning around and around like the blades of a fan.

While he lay awake, listening to the fan, he soon became able to distinguish yet another sound. It was quiet, barely audible. Whatever was causing it seemed to be a great distance away. It sounded crisp and powerful, even in its low volume. The sound was smooth and repetitive. Hypnotic. It almost sounded like…

Waves.

A loud click was heard as the door to the bedroom swung open. Simon pulled his eyes away from the fan and quickly sat up as an elderly man dressed in evening wear strode through the open doorway. Simon spent a few seconds trying to focus his eyes. The person in his room was just a gray and black blur to him. Simon then snapped his limited sight over to his nightstand and took hold of his glasses.

"Good morning, sir," spoke a strained, but polite British voice. As Simon's eyes focused, he realized that was staring into the face of a butler. _His_ butler. The man was tall compared to Simon, but only average height by any other standard. He wore black dress shoes, white gloves and was holding a small silver tray in one hand. The man's eyes were brown and lifeless. His nearly expressionless face was heavily marred with wrinkles which continued up over his forehead and onto his hairless scalp.

"I trust you slept well," The butler continued. He may have been trying to appear cheerful.

Simon considered answering, but merely stared back at him, blankly. He was still wrestling with a deep but unclear feeling of confusion. Whisperings in his mind that impressed the idea that something was out of place. As Simon attempted to sort out this odd feeling, the butler walked across the room and to the side of the bed. He reached over and gently placed the tray on Simon's lap, trapping him in his bed.

"I brought you some breakfast."

Simon looked down to a fried egg, a strip of bacon and two pieces of toast on a white plate. Ornate silverware resting on a silk napkin was positioned to the left of it. Above that stood miniature salt and pepper shakers and a small glass of orange juice. This was significantly more food than he could eat. He turned his head to face the butler, only to realize that he was once again alone in the room.

Still feeling a vague sense of confusion, Simon pushed the tray toward his feet, allowing him to move freely once again. He leaned back on his pillow and stared out at the open French door across the room. The curtains fluttered in the breeze.

Simon took one last look at the breakfast his butler had delivered and decided that he had no intention of eating. He instead pulled back his sheets and leapt down from his bed. As he landed, he took note of the carpet: it was soft, white, calming. Standing there in his bedroom, bare feet on the luxurious carpet, Simon almost felt contented. For a moment, his confusion and questions were gone. _For a moment_, he considered staying there in that exact spot for hours. Days. Forever.

The thought was disconcerting to him. He shook his head to try to snap his mind back to reality. As he began moving once again toward the open French door, an edge of confusion crept back into his thoughts. He felt as though he was standing on the edge of a dream, unable to fully define what was normal and what wasn't. But, as far as he could tell, he no longer had any pressing, unanswered questions on his mind. Nothing in his house seemed out of the ordinary. The chairs, the bed, the tables…

Simon stopped walking for a moment as his eyes focused on an ornate coffee table in the center of the room. It was bare and seemed generally uninteresting, but something about it bothered him. It was not out of place. It was not damaged in anyway. To the best of his recollection, it had always been there. Yet, the coffee table still managed to fill him with a peculiar sense of anxiety.

Simon shook his head again.

"It's a table," he thought to himself. "What on Earth am I doing?" He shrugged off the feeling and continued out the open glass door and onto the balcony.

The balcony was made of the same white stone as the rest of the exterior of the Estate. The stone, heated by the late morning sun, felt warm and comforting on Simon's feet. He continued walking to the white railing which enclosed the balcony. While it was only waist height to a human, the short support columns seemed like bars from Simon's perspective. He pressed his face against the gap between two of the columns to gain a better view.

He looked out over the grounds of his Estate. Directly below was an elaborate garden of shrubs and short trees. It was neatly maintained and perfectly symmetrical, but was thoroughly worn; it looked as though someone had paced back and forth in front of the hedges hundreds of times.

The intricate paths of the garden eventually opened into a green space stretching out toward the white brick fence which separated the Estate grounds from the woods. Along the brick barrier was a line of palm trees that spanned the north-facing boundary of the lawn.

Simon's eye followed the line of trees to his left. In the exact center of the yard, he saw the white brick driveway leading from the front door of the house out into the forest. The yard was perfectly symmetrical, having a duplicate shrub garden and open lawn on the opposite side of the driveway. Upon reaching the far corner of his yard, his eye was drawn back to the driveway and to the wrought iron gate separating the perfect order of the Estate grounds from the foreboding wilderness of the forest beyond. Simon felt the cold edge of fear slice through him when he called the forest to mind. He seemed to remember bits and pieces of a dream he had just awoken from - nothing specific, only an odd sense of fear associated with the forest and what lay beyond.

He chose to end his momentary discomfort and proceeded back through the open French door and into his bedroom. Deliberately avoiding the coffee table, Simon focused his sight on the door through which his butler had entered. He approached it, pressed his palm against the wooden plane of the door to force it open and stepped through.

Simon had now entered a small green room. The room seemed ordinary, from a certain perspective, but turning his head to the left, he was met with a row of steel bars where the wall should have been. The wall of bars, which Simon noticed had a section equipped with hinges and a lock, was separating the green room from a small library. The library was lined with glass shelves, all supporting black books of equal thickness. In the center of the room was a massive wooden desk. On it stood a green reading lamp and a thin black book.

He reached out with his left hand to grasp the nearest grey steel bar. Still staring intently at the black book on the desk, Simon heaved on the bar, trying to force the door open. The prison cell-style door made a resounding metallic clank, but did not open. Simon stared longingly into the room for a moment, burning with curiosity, but eventually removed his hand from the metal bar and continued walking.

Reaching the end of the green room, Simon repeated his action and pressed an open palm against the dark wooden door. He immediately realized that this door was a good bit heavier than the one in his room. He leaned into the door, pressing all of his weight against it. Finally, the door crept open. As soon as he had a gap large enough to fit through, Simon walked out onto a large interior balcony. This balcony formed a second floor perimeter overlooking a spacious, cream colored living room. The two-story wall to his left was completely covered with windows. The only bit of furniture was a black chaise lounge in the center of the room below. As Simon walked along the balcony, he noticed speakers on the walls which played soft piano music.

"Piano concerto number 21," he remarked to himself. The music comforted him - made him feel at home. "I just need to relax. It was a dream," he felt compelled to tell himself. He was still unable to recall anything specific about the dream, only a cascade of unsettling feelings. But being in the Estate, hearing only the music, he began to calm down.

He reached the point in the balcony where the railing opened up to a double staircase. The marble stairs were curved, starting at the same point but ending on differing ends of the living room below. In between the two sets of stairs was a square column, spanning floor to ceiling. As Simon bounded down the stairs, his new point of view allowed him to see a set of double doors on the far side of the column. It was an elevator. Simon paid it no attention. He continued down the stairway and directly through an open arch and into a long hallway.

The hallway was the same cream color as the living room. In it were only two doors, one on either wall. Simon quickly walked over to the door on the left. He pushed it open, but remained in the hallway as he peered into the room. The room had blue and white-striped wall paper and a fireplace on either end. There were four large windows on the side of the room opposite the door. In the center of the large room, he saw a table and two chairs directly under a chandler. On the table was a chessboard.

"Everything as it should be," Simon reassured himself. His confusion was beginning to subside. The Estate seemed more and more familiar to him with each new door he opened.

He placed his hand around the edge of the door, pulled it shut and then turned to focus on the remaining door.

While the door to the chess-room was in the middle of the hallway, the next door was further down, near the end. As Simon approached, he was able to more clearly see through the large window at the end of the hall. The forest could be seen here. Its trees loomed just outside the window. All that separated the wilderness from the Estate on this side was a narrow dirt road.

Simon reached the door at the end of the hallway and placed an open palm upon it. Compared to the other doors in the house, this one was remarkably easy to push open.

As the door swung open, Simon was met with a sight that seemed to push ideas of fear from his mind: A long, bright white room with a glass desk at the end. The floor was made fogged plastic with lights underneath. All light in the room shone up from these panels. The walls were made of a white, semi-reflective material. The wall to Simon's left was adorned with five large square plates of clear plastic. As he ventured further into the room and his perspective changed, images could be seen on each of the plates. They were television monitors. At the moment, they were displaying images of the inside of the Estate. One of them showed a view of Simon walking down the middle of the white room.

The wall to his right looked the same, except that the third screen had been replaced with a set of metal double-doors. Simon could see his reflection in them as he passed by. He stopped to examine himself.

On the outside, he looked completely normal. His face was clean and his blue and white striped pajamas still had creases in the arms. His eyes, on the other hand, looked dark and tired. While it was true that he hadn't slept well, he knew there was more to it than that. His eyes reflected much of the fear and anxiety he had been feeling earlier. Their usual blue intensity was noticeably dull, even in the brilliant light of the room.

Simon, not wanting to look himself in the eye any longer, shifted his gaze to a small silver plate to the left of the metal doors. On it, in all capital letters appeared the words 'LONG TERM.' As he thought of the contents of that room, his train of thought was called back to the black book in the locked library upstairs. It was still vague, but he felt as though he could nearly remember what had happened in the dream.

"I remember the table," he thought as he traced his memory back. "I remember the book, and fog or mist. And then there was something loud like…"

As Simon was about to complete his thought, he noticed something in the door. It was a reflection he did not recognize. As the image became clearer to him, he suddenly froze, paralyzed by fear.

A man.

The man was tall. He seemed to be in his early sixties and was dressed in a cream colored suit with a grey tie. His eyes were brown and deep. Wrinkles covered most of his weathered face. He had grey hair that was, for the most part, covered by a white hat. The man appeared to be smiling as he spoke in a cheerful British accent.

"Do you know the way?"

Simon spun around, prepared to confront this mysterious intruder. But as he finished turning, he found that his eyes had nothing to lock on to. The man was gone. Simon turned his head back to the reflections in the door. The image of the man had gone from the reflection, as well.

Simon took a few seconds to scan the room before he decided that it was impossible for anyone to hide from him here. He turned his attention to the door to the hallway and bolted out.

He looked first to his left, down the hall and toward the living room and then back to the right, toward the window. He saw nothing out of the ordinary.

The man was gone.

Simon furrowed his brow as he attempted to make sense of the situation. However, his train of thought was again interrupted.

He perked up his ears as he became aware of a new sound: a low, droning sound. A very deep sound, like soft thunder. He rushed out from the hallway and into the living room. From there, he ran towards the Estate's entryway. The tall front door hummed as it swung open automatically and made a short click as it came to a stop. Simon stared down the long driveway at the source of the noise.

It was a vehicle. A black, four-door sedan with deeply tinted windows. The car proceeded slowly up the driveway as Simon stood motionless in the arch of his front door. His eyes widened with apprehension as the car gradually turned. He now was facing the side-rear door. The car crept along further until it was completely parallel to the steps leading to the Estate's entrance-way and finally came to a stop.

Now that he could see the car more closely, Simon noticed that it had no license plate. In fact, the car had no identifying marks on it of any kind. No model number, no brand insignia, nothing. The only things on it not colored black were the headlights, taillights, hubcaps and a small, silver hood ornament.

The ornament was in the shape of a small sphere inside a larger oval. Simon understood immediately what the shape meant, although his conclusion was one that he found somewhat unsettling: it was an eye. Simon shifted his attention to the car windows, but could not see the interior. He took note of his reflection. The confusion in his eyes was now more evident.

From the opposite side of the car, he heard a door open followed by the sound of two feet making contact with the brick. Simon still stood motionless, almost in shock, as a chipmunk dressed in a black suit coat and red tie rounded the front of the car and slowly approached. Simon took his hand away from his eyes and made an effort to straighten his posture. The familiar looking chipmunk stopped at the base short stairway and looked up at him.

"Hello, Simon," he said calmly. "Remember me?"

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**This chapter was by far the least exciting, but everything in there is extremely relevant to the premise. Things pick up in the next chapter. So, if you've made it this far, I urge you to continue.**


	3. The Repressed

**Chapter Three – The Repressed**

_**Here's where the fun begins...**_

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The chipmunk dressed in a black suit and red tie stood on the driveway, looking up at Simon. Simon looked down on him from the top of the short staircase leading to the Estate's main entrance.

"Yes, I remember you…" Simon stated flatly. A hint of aggression could be heard in his voice as he continued. "… Doctor."

Alvin furrowed his brow in confusion.

"I don't recall you ever visiting me at my home before," Simon continued. His eyes began to show a loosely hidden feeling of suspicion.

He took a moment to think before giving an answer to Simon's statement. "True. But things change. An… associate of mine told me that it was very important for me to see you. I mean, for you to see me."

"Oh, _I see_," Simon sounded wary of the words coming from Alvin's mouth. "And why exactly do I need to see you, Doctor?"

"Maybe it'd be better if you didn't call me that. You could just call me by my name, if you wanted."

Simon stared back at him, exhibiting no expression whatsoever.

"You do remember my name, right? You know who I am?"

The two chipmunks stood facing each other speaking only through their expressions. Alvin wore a look of fading optimism on his face while Simon still appeared contemptuous. After almost a minute of unbreakable silence, Simon spoke.

"Could I get you some water, Doctor?"

Alvin's hope melted from his face. Genuine sadness flashed across his eyes, but was quickly replaced with a forced smile. "That'd be great. Thank you."

Simon gave Alvin a look of contempt and turned to reenter the Estate. "Follow me, please."

Immediately upon entering, Alvin's eyes widened. He was awestruck at the sight of the massive room. Alvin craned his head upward to take in the full view of the Estate's living room. His eyes followed the gentle curve of the second floor balcony around the perimeter, finally reaching the imposing wall of windows. The windows gave Alvin sight over the grounds in the back of the Estate. From here he could see a large green space and, in the distance, the clear outline of a cemetery. Alvin pulled his vision back to within the confines of the room and continued his inspection.

His eyes were drawn to the small, black chaise lounge in the center of the living room. As he looked at it directly, Alvin's eyes lit up with recognition. He trailed behind Simon's lead and wandered closer to the chair. Reaching it, he placed a hand tentatively on the arm. Upon touching it, a square of white marble floor pulled back with a sudden click. Alvin jumped, but still kept his hand on the armrest. A black square sprung out from the floor on a thin, segmented metal arm. The arm unfolded as the panel rose and finally locked into position just to the right of the chair. As Alvin looked down on it, the blank square lit up, decorating itself with patterns of blue and white light. Although he was unable to comprehend exactly what was being displayed, Alvin knew he was looking at a control panel.

"Doctor," Simon almost shouted from the other end of the room. "This way, if you don't mind."

"Oh. I… Of course," Alvin managed to stammer. He pulled his hand back from the chair and headed toward his host. As he did, the black control panel receded into the floor, folding in on itself gracefully and finally ending its fluidic movement with a quiet click as the marble tile slid back into place.

Simon led his guest into a hallway on the right side of the living room. They walked down the corridor in silence, finally stopping at a door near the end. Simon pushed the dark wooden door open and motioned for Alvin to enter.

The two entered a streamlined kitchen. Near the back of the room was a collection of stainless steel appliances. These were surrounded by large glass cubes which appeared to serve as countertops. Above them were small, spherical light fixtures, hanging like stars from the ceiling. Closer to the door was a short glass table with two empty glasses and a plastic pitcher of water on it. Simon moved to the chair nearest the door and sat down.

Alvin continued to stand for a few seconds, trying to absorb the image of the room. He looked back down at Simon and detected an element of irritation in his face. He took his seat.

"You seem very interested in the décor of my Estate, Doctor," Simon said, feigning a pleasant tone of voice. He began pouring a glass of water for himself.

Alvin ignored Simon's remark and began to speak excitedly. "That room we were just in, the one with all the windows, is that where you sleep?" Alvin looked deeply focused on receiving an answer. His eyes were unwavering as he awaited a response.

"No. I…" Simon seemed confused at the nature of the question. "I have a room upstairs. Why?" He had put his glass down after filling it only halfway.

Alvin reached across the table to take the pitcher of water. With his other hand, he took his glass. "I thought, because of the chair…" Alvin started to say, but trailed off.

Simon looked back distrustfully, as if expecting this odd question to be a trap of some kind. He chose his words carefully. "To be honest, I never sit in that thing."

Alvin's eyes drifted away from Simon's face and down to the surface of the table. Silence endured between the two for a few moments. Simon continued to look his guest over with a suspicious eye. Alvin still had a general look of disappointment in his face. Time ticked by. Beads of condensation began to form on the side of the water pitcher and both glasses. Alvin reached out and grasped his. He raised it to his mouth, took a long drink, and placed it back on the table, being careful not to make a sound. He looked down at the table again, apparently lost in thought. Simon, sitting with his hands folded on the table, tilted his head to try to maintain eye contact.

After a few seconds, Alvin shot his gaze upward with a new sense of purpose in his deep brown eyes. "I'm sorry, Simon. I know this is kind of strange. It is for me, anyway. I can't even guess how you must feel."

Simon simply continued to stare at him.

"And it looks like I woke you up," Alvin added with a slight laugh.

"What?"

"You're still in your pajamas. Did you have a rough night?" Alvin smiled kindly. Simon continued to stare at him suspiciously.

"It seems you're right," he said without looking down to confirm the statement. "I should change."

Simon stood up. "You can wait upstairs. Follow me, please."

"Sure," Alvin said as he also stood up.

The two pushed in their chairs simultaneously, not breaking the undeclared staring contest between them. Simon led the way out from the kitchen, through the hallway in the west wing of the Estate and into the living room once again. He strode past the first flight of stairs, past the column containing the elevator and to the flight of stairs he had descended earlier. Alvin attempted to keep pace while still examining the house.

"Simon," he asked as they walked. "Where does that elevator lead?"

"I can't see how it would matter," Simon replied without breaking stride or looking back. He had a noticeable edge of aggravation in his voice. "I never use it."

The two chipmunks ascended the staircase to the second floor of the Estate. Simon turned right, following the curve of the balcony, and stopped in front of a large wooden door which had been left open. He squeezed through the opening into the green room, followed closely by Alvin.

As soon as he cleared the door, Alvin stopped and stared intently at the barred-off library. His gaze followed the line of glass bookshelves to the wooden desk in the center of the room. His eyes met the small black book lying on its surface.

"Simon, just what do you keep locked up in there?" Alvin asked only to realize that he was addressing an empty room. His face filled with disappointment again. He hung his head and stared into the detail of the dark hardwood floor. His gaze drifted first to his black shoes, then to the black sport coat he was wearing and the white button-down shirt underneath. His eyes followed the buttons up one by one until they reached the triangular point of his red tie. He lifted it away from his chest with one hand and continued to stare into it.

"Not enough, I guess," he admitted to himself. He turned slowly to look out the window. He stared out, first at the forest and second down at his car. Alvin let out a small sigh of relief when he saw that it was still idling in the driveway.

In the bathroom attached to the Estate's master bedroom, Simon stood quietly in front of his mirror. His eyes now displayed more paranoia than confusion. Dark circles had formed under them since he had seen himself last. He looked down at his sink and turned the knob labeled 'COLD.' Water began to pour down in a steady stream. He reached out and splashed some of the frigid water onto his face.

The water jolted his mind back into the present situation and away from the plaguing questions that loomed over him. He stood for a few seconds, staring into his own eyes. After deciding that they looked less anxious than before, Simon removed his glasses, lifted his pajama shirt over his head and cast it off onto the floor. As he reached for his blue sweatshirt which he had left sitting next to the sink, Simon noticed a glint of light out of the corner of his eye.

He turned his attention back to the mirror. His vision was severely blurred without his glasses, but he was able to make out the unmistakable outline of something hanging from his neck. He groped for his glasses and set them back on his face. Simon looked back at his reflection. Dangling from his neck on a thin, silver chain was a black key. He cautiously lifted a hand to grasp it.

Water was still running in the sink. Simon could hear the column of water bubble and splash into the small pool of water that had collected in the bottom of the basin. The sound it produced brought up more incomprehensible feelings of confusion. It somehow reminded him of his dream. The sound of water. Falling water. An inescapable cascade.

Waves.

Drowning.

Simon sharply pulled himself out of his thoughts when he noticed a new reflection in the mirror. The reflection of a chipmunk in a cream colored suit and a white hat. The chipmunk he had seen earlier.

He simply smiled as though he was toying with Simon, and spoke in his cheerful voice.

"Do you know the way?"

Simon shot a terrified glance backwards, but was met by nothing but the wall.

He looked back into the mirror. As before, his eyes reflected every facet of his inner fear. Simon jumped again as he heard a knock at his bathroom door.

"Simon, are you alright?" Alvin asked from the other side.

He didn't answer. He merely reached out, shut off the water faucet, and removed his glasses. He was careful to keep one hand near them as he pulled his sweatshirt over his head, just in case he noticed anything else in the mirror. A few seconds later, he pushed open the bathroom door and walked into his bedroom.

"You were in there for a while," Alvin commented. "Are you alright?"

Simon said nothing. He simply stared down at the white carpet of his bedroom, trying to remember the feeling he had earlier. It did not seem to have the same ability to quiet the questions and feelings circulating in Simon's mind. It was just a carpet now. It offered no escape.

Alvin looked at him, concerned. "Simon, I saw the library you have in the next room." As he said this, Simon shifted his gaze from the floor to Alvin's eyes. "What do you keep there?"

Simon looked at him without saying a word. His eyes still betrayed his feelings of fear and confusion, as they had all day. But now they seemed to exhibit a new emotion: grief. Alvin recognized this.

"Simon, will you show me the library?"

As Alvin waited patiently for a reply, Simon reached into his shirt and removed a black key. They both walked silently out the door of the bedroom and into the green room. Simon approached the lock in the wall of bars, holding the key in one hand.

He hesitated for a moment. Of all the feelings of foreboding in this place, the most intense seemed to surround the little black book locked up in the library. Fear tried to take hold. He looked back toward the "doctor" for reassurance. Alvin simply stood behind him, a look of hope growing back into his expression.

Simon pushed the key into the lock, twisted it and listened to the tumblers drop.

Suddenly, the door snapped open with the key still in the lock. The thin silver chain snapped and was pulled from Simon's neck. When the door came to a sudden stop, the chain swayed back and forth, striking against one of the steel bars.

After the chain stopped moving, the entire room became nearly silent. The only sound that could be heard was the soft crashing of waves from somewhere beyond the forest.

With Alvin following closely behind, Simon approached the large wooden desk. He jumped onto the chair behind it and looked down on the black book. He looked up at Alvin with clear apprehension.

"Go ahead, Simon. You need to know what's in there."

Simon nodded without thinking and turned his head back down to the book. On its cover, in gold lettering, appeared the book's innocently ominous title: Event No. 2455. Simon raised a trembling hand and opened the book to a page somewhere in the middle. He looked up at the "doctor" once more.

"Read it, Simon. Read it. Understand," Alvin encouraged.

He looked back down and began to read the words on the open pages aloud.

"Through my fingers to the deep,  
While I weep - while I weep!  
O God! can I not grasp  
Them with a tighter clasp?  
O God! can I not save  
One from the pitiless wave?  
Is all that we see or seem…"

As Simon read, his thoughts began to wander as if drawn by a strong current. The library began to vanish, dissolving into a thick fog. Formlessness surrounded him, enveloping his entire reality. The general darkness of the library faded to white. The floor took on a new, white color. The walls became a calm white color and the soft sunlight pouring through the open window took on a slight flicker as fluorescent lights appeared. The chair Simon had been standing on became soft and yielding. A mattress. A bed.

_Simon's eyes darted back and forth, trying desperately to reorient himself. Recognizing his brother standing off in the distance, he calmed down slightly. Alvin looked dazed and uncharacteristically solemn. He noticed a small bandage on his brother's head with a bit of blood seeping through._

_Simon turned his head to see two doctors conversing at the foot of the bed he was standing on. They continued speaking to one another, completely unaware of Simon's presence. While he couldn't make out any of the words in their conversation, they seemed to understand each other perfectly well._

_In actuality, he didn't want to hear what they were saying. But somehow, one word pushed through: "Unresponsive."_

_His eyes sank back down to the bed he was standing on. Staring intently at the white sheets, Simon noticed small muddy footprints approaching from the edge of the bed. He followed them back to his own feet. They, like the rest of him, were wet and covered in dirt. Simon now could hear large drops of water from his sweatshirt land on the soft covers of the hospital bed._

_At the sight of the water and his muddy feet, his memory began to trickle back. Simon cautiously turned, not wanting to remember who he was about to see. For a moment he hesitated and considered never turning around. Never facing his fears. Choosing to live forever without the burden of this knowledge. But out of the corner of his teary eyes, he caught sight of Jeanette. She was wired to a heart monitor, which beeped steadily but slowly. He closed his eyes hard to try to fight back the tears burning his eyes._

_"I miss you. Please don't stay away for much longer," he whispered. Tears poured down his face as he tried to continue speaking. "I, I… I."_

_"I, I, I," mocked a clear British voice from somewhere behind him. Simon turned abruptly to face the same chipmunk he had seen earlier in the mirror. Here, he was wearing a cream colored lab coat with a small red nametag that read: Dr. Tulig. He stood over the bed smiling._

_Simon, still with fresh tears streaming from his eyes, scowled at the figure. Hatred flooded through his veins, pushing away the burning sadness. Part of him wanted to leap out and attack this "Dr. Tulig." Another, more prominent part wanted nothing more than to hide under the bed and try to forget what he was seeing._

_Tulig parted his smiling lips and continued speaking. "…This works on you…"_

Simon inhaled sharply as he snapped his eyes open. He was again in the library, facing Alvin who stood across the desk with a look of hope on his face.

"Well?" he asked optimistically.

Simon simply shuddered. "Was this a memory?" he thought. "Was I actually in a hospital, or… No. That's insane. This was a hallucination. It had to be."

"Simon!" Alvin asked, growing impatient. "What happened?"

Simon stood over the book wearing an expression of udder shock and disbelief. Not only had he not understood what had just happened, but he felt incapable of admitting to himself that the memory may have been real.

"Simon," his brother persisted. "What did you see?"

Standing with his eyes tightly shut, Simon slammed the book closed.

"I'd like you to leave now, doctor," he said quickly while trying desperately to fight back his fear and confusion.

"Simon, I don't understand. I…"

"Alvin!" he yelled. The tiredness and paranoia in his eyes had been replaced by harsh intensity and anger. "Get out."

Alvin's eyes reflected hurt from being shouted at. However, just below the surface he felt a surge of joy at being called by his real name. He nodded in acceptance and backed out of the room. He proceeded down the stairway, across the living room, past the chaise lounge, and through the automatic front door.

Simon stood in silence, staring vacantly at the floor. After a few seconds, he heard an engine fire up. He moved over to the window in the room and looked down at the Estate's driveway and the black car on it. Simon looked on as Alvin offered one last sad look before entering the vehicle and disappearing behind tinted glass.

Simon continued to stare through the window as his butler entered through the open door. He crept across the room and joined Simon in staring at the car below.

"I don't think we can expect him again anytime soon," the butler said with noticeably forced conviction.

"Alden," Simon asked, still staring blankly at Alvin's car as it proceeded past the iron gates and into the forest. "Where are we, exactly?"

"We are in the Estate, sir," the butler replied.

"But where is the Estate?" he asked in a soft tone.

The butler drew his eyes away from the window and down toward Simon.

"It's best not to think of such things." With this, he turned sharply and headed out of the room, leaving Simon to endure his thoughts alone.


	4. Denial

**Chapter Four - Denial**

_**If anyone happened to read this prior to November 1st, I suggest reading it again. This story underwent a rewrite and I've made some small but significant changes.**_

_**Also, "Tu" is pronounced "two." Apparently there was a bit of confusion over that.**_

* * *

Simon rolled over in his bed. He now looked directly into the clock on his nightstand. The clock beamed back at him with big, green glowing Roman numerals. The hands on the clock were also glowing and, through the darkness, indicated three O'clock. Simon rolled back to face the ceiling while trying to let his frustration out through a heavy sigh. He stared up at the fan again, remembering how this had once reflected the pattern of his thoughts: circular, redundant and pointless. Now, lying awake at three in the morning in the dark, his thoughts felt sharp and jagged. His vague confusion had solidified into one specific thought: "I do not belong here."

He threw off his covers and leapt out of bed. Simon clumsily felt over his nightstand for his glasses and the blue sweatshirt he had set out for himself. He grabbed hold of the sweatshirt, tossed his pajama shirt over his bed and resumed his search for his glasses. With both his blurry vision and the crushing darkness of the room, Simon couldn't see a thing. He slid his free hand carefully across the table, back and forth, moving further inwards with each sweep. During his search, his hand struck the clock, turning it so that it faced him. Through his unclear vision, he saw only a green disk of light. Staring directly into it, he thrust his hand behind the clock and grasped his glasses.

With his glasses finally back over his eyes and his sweatshirt back on, Simon turned and walked slowly in the direction of the door, holding his hand out in front of him as he went. He reached the far wall and began sliding to his left until he reached the familiar wooden frame of the door. He pushed it open.

Simon entered the adjacent green room. Low light shone in from the window, making the walls of the room just light enough to see. At first, he intended to make it through this room without looking over at the barred-off library. He still harbored a twisting feeling of uneasiness when thinking about the hallucination involving Jeanette, and part of him wanted nothing to do with that library ever again.

But another, quieter part wanted only to confront this irrational fear.

"It's just a library…" he thought. "… and I apparently live here. I can't hide from this forever." Simon inhaled deeply and turned to face the barred-off room, but to his surprise the iron bars were gone. They had been replaced by brick.

Simon cautiously walked closer to the newly installed wall. He reached a hand out and touched it.

Cold. It was cold brick. He slid his hand over slightly and felt that the mortar was completely dry, as well. It certainly didn't feel like it had recently been built, but Simon knew that he had been inside that room just the previous afternoon.

"How long have I been asleep?" Simon whispered to the near absolute darkness.

He stood for a few seconds, shrouded in darkness, silence and unanswered questions. But again he shook himself back to the present situation and proceeded out the door of the green room.

The living room had not changed, except for the lighting, of course. Dim fixtures beamed down just enough light for Simon to clearly see his surroundings without straining his eyes. In this light, the cream color of the Estate's living room looked orange. The chaise lounge at the bottom of the staircase still looked black. Simon stared at it, wondering for the first time about its purpose. It didn't fit. Nothing really fit. The whole Estate seemed artificial, like a transparent lie. Yet, Simon felt very comfortable there.

He noticed then that the unseen speakers in the living room were now softly playing Pachelbel's Canon in D. Simon stood with his eyes closed, trying to absorb every note of the quiet music. His mind followed every pitch. Up, down. D, E, F sharp, G, A. His heart tied into the music. He felt every note send a ripple through his soul.

"Sounds like my iPod back h…" Simon opened his eyes. The warm feeling of contentment melted away from his mind and pooled into a puddle of burning bewilderment. "Back home," he thought to himself. "Back. _Home_." His eyes began to dart about the room when he noticed a light down the hallway to his right.

Simon walked slowly down the hall. He breathed deeply but quietly. The light appeared to be coming from the kitchen. He tentatively peeked past the door frame, half expecting to see Tulig waiting for him there.

Instead, he was met by the tired eyes of his butler, Alden.

"Good morning, sir," the butler said in his quasi-cheerful voice. "I'm afraid breakfast won't be ready for another few hours."

"What? Oh, never mind about breakfast."

Alden tilted his head slightly. His dark brown eyes seemed to fill with concern. "Is something troubling you, sir?"

Simon simply stared past the butler into the wall behind him. After a moment, he finally opened his mouth to speak. "Alden…" he said, barely above a whisper. "Alden. I… I feel like I trust you. Even though I've never met you. Wh…"

"Is there something you wish to say to me?"

Simon broke his aimless gaze and focused on the butler's face. "Alden, can you keep a secret?"

"I'd rather not, sir."

"_Can_ you?"

Alden, while clearly distressed, slowly nodded.

"I've been feeling very strange lately. I've been hallucinating, and I just feel like… like I don't belong here. I feel like I should try to… run." Simon paused for a moment before speaking again. "Alden, how did I get here? Who runs this place?"

"That would be Tu."

"_Tu_?" Simon let his confusion show through his eyes. "Tulig? He brought me here?"

The butler nodded again.

"Wait. You mean… You mean he's _real_?"

"Oh, yes. Tu is very much a real person. And he keeps everything here in check."

"How?"

"Oh, I don't ask questions."

"How?" Simon shouted.

Alden said nothing but looked nervously to his right.

Immediately, Simon knew what he meant. He turned and strode out of the kitchen.

He walked hurriedly down the hallway, followed closely by Alden. The both of them kept in stride until Simon reached a door with an engraved metal panel on it reading: SHORT TERM. Simon pressed his palm against the door and pushed it open.

The nine video panels in the otherwise pristine, white room all displayed the same image of Simon and Alden standing in the doorway. Simon walked slowly into the room, toward the glass desk in front of the far wall. He leapt up onto the desk.

"Sir," Alden desperately requested from the hallway. "We don't need to see what's in here. Please. Just go back upstairs and go to sleep."

Simon replied without looking at him. "Alden, you're free to go. I don't need you right now. I just need to know what is going on here."

Alden bowed and moved away from the door. As the butler quickly walked back down the hallway, Simon continued to examine what appeared to be a laptop which was sitting on the desk. The laptop's screen was made of the same clear material as the television monitors hanging from the wall. And as far as he could tell, the computer had no keys. The entirety of the laptop, other than the display panel, was a thin black block. Simon reached down and put a hand where the keyboard should have been.

Immediately, the plastic block lit up with the pattern of a keyboard. It was some sort of touch-panel. Each letter, number and symbol had suddenly shone through the black plastic on the laptop. Simon looked up at the screen and saw five words displayed on the clear display: Press Any Key to Continue.

Simon reached a hand out and tapped the number six. As soon as he did, the image on the screen changed to a grid displaying what appeared to be surveillance recordings. It showed footage of Simon walking down the hallway, footage of Simon and Alden talking in the kitchen, and night-vision footage of Simon searching for his glasses in the darkness of his room.

"He watches us."

"We can see everyone and everything in the Estate from here, Simon." Tulig had entered the room and was standing in the doorway. He began walking confidently, almost arrogantly, toward the glass desk.

Simon quickly remarked to himself that he no longer felt surprise at the appearance of this mysterious chipmunk.

"Surveillance?"

"Constant and unwavering. Day in and day out. Twenty-four/seven."

"Why?"

"Oh, well we need to keep an eye on you. Otherwise these... trifling thoughts about escape may grow into something more persuasive. We can't have you running off and hurting yourself, now can we?"

Simon tried desperately to untangle Tulig's web of double-talk. He couldn't tell if he was telling the truth, blatantly lying to him, or trying to draw him into some sort of elegant trap. He wasn't even sure that Tulig was real until a few minutes ago.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"People assume they are being watched. Doesn't it make them feel better to know that they are?"

Simon straightened up. His eyes began darting about the room as he tried to process Tulig's words.

"And unfortunately, in a place like this, paranoia has a tendency to run rampant. Bars have such a negative connotation."

"For good reason," Simon retorted. "Bars are typically found in prisons."

Tulig leapt onto the glass desk. He stood for a moment, face to face with Simon. The two sets of blue eyes remained locked as Tulig continued. "But aren't prisons safe places?"

Simon blinked hard. Tulig simply stood in front of him, wearing his characteristic smile as he slid a foot over the 'escape' key on the laptop and tapped down on it.

The image on the screen in front of Simon vanished and was replaced with static. The laptop's keyboard again went dark.

"You'll learn to sleep well here. Someday."

Tulig turned, leapt down onto the lighted plastic floor and proceeded to the door.

"Tu." Simon spoke loudly from the desk. Tulig stopped and turned to face him. "You won't hold me."

"Won't we?" Tulig smiled and turned again, continuing out the door.

Simon stood on the desk in disbelief. His confusion, or at least part of it, had been brought into focus. He now knew who the enemy was, at least.

As he stood thinking, he found himself interrupted again by the sound of a car engine. Simon stayed still as he heard the automatic front door click open and closed once again, followed by light footsteps approaching the room labeled SHORT TERM. Alvin, still wearing a sport coat and red tie, walked in.

"Simon," he said as he breathed a sigh of relief. "How've you been? Still think I'm a doctor?"

Simon laughed to himself. "I…" He thought about his response for a moment. The truth was that he still wanted to think of Alvin as a doctor, even though he knew that this was impossible. But, despite his reasoning, something inside him compelled him to believe that Alvin was a trained, medical doctor.

"You barely stayed awake in Biology last semester," Simon finally said with a slight laugh. "There's no way you could ever sit through four years of med-school."

A smile grew on Alvin's face. "Good. He said you might start fighting what they tell you." He took a step forward. "He also said that this is going to be pretty… intense."

"What is? Who are you talking about?"

"Simon, I just need to ask you something." He took a few steps forward and was now close enough to look directly into Simon's eyes. "Simon, please admit what happened. If you admit it, you can leave."

"What are you talking about? Admit what?" Simon's eyes narrowed as he tried to make sense of Alvin's request. He truly had no idea what his brother was talking about.

Alvin looked down on the floor and sighed. A glitter of light reflected in his eyes. He then raised his arm and put a finger to his ear. "Alright. Go ahead, doctor."

"Doctor?"

"Sorry, Simon."

"What did you do?"

"My best advice is to relax."

"What did you do?"

Alvin did not respond. He simply turned out into the hallway, leaving Simon alone in the surveillance room, and returned to his car out in the driveway. Simon listened as he heard the engine fire up again and slowly fade away.

Silence crept back into the Estate. A powerful silence that pounded at Simon's ears as they strained to pick up even the faintest vibration. But there was nothing to be heard. His ears began to ring in the inescapable quiet.

Simon was completely alone when the laptop flickered back on. The static on the display vanished to reveal a single surveillance grid. Simon moved closer to get a better look, and as he did he recognized the image being displayed: Jeanette, asleep in a hospital bed. Her breathing was shallow, but the heart monitor she was wired to persisted. Simon stared into the screen, his blue eyes welling with tears. He reached a hand out to the screen and placed it on the image of Jeanette's head.

As soon as he did, the image changed. Simon was now staring into a video of Jeanette and himself walking hand in hand down a sidewalk. He looked up and saw that all the other screens in the room were cycling through different images of Jeanette and himself. Images which were puzzling. Images which couldn't have all been taken by a family member or friend. His eyes shot around the room, taking in images of birthdays, Christmases, days of school.

The onslaught began to make Simon dizzy. His eyes flashed with white light a few times. He put a hand against the laptop's screen to steady himself.

These pictures filled him with nothing but pain. He didn't know where he was, how he had gotten there or how to escape. And, on top of everything, he was now being reminded that the only person he had ever loved was in the hospital.

"And it's all my fault," something inside him whispered.

Simon blinked. "What?" he said out loud. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He stared back into the images of Jeanette which were now cycling faster and faster. His expression hardened into a scowl.

"That's enough."

The images continued.

"That's enough!"

Every screen in the room started showing the same set of images. And, somewhere off in the distance, Simon could hear the roar of water.

"That's quite enough!" Simon yelled at the top of his lungs as he punched the center of the plastic screen.

Simultaneously, all the displays in the room switched back to static. Simon looked at the laptop and saw a crack running through the clear panel. He looked down at his hand and saw a small cut on his knuckle. He looked back at the screen, half hoping that the images of Jeanette would return.

Everything was quiet again.

Everything except the distinct sound of water.

Then Simon felt an odd shift in the Estate. From somewhere in the mansion's foundation, he heard the deep creaking and twisting of metal.

He quickly leapt down from the desk and on to the illuminated floor. He hurried out into the hallway.

"Alvin?" he called. "Alden."

The sound of the Ocean grew louder, along with the sound of metal strain below the house. Simon scanned the hallway, but saw no one.

"Tu!"

With that, Simon heard a loud snap from underneath the Estate. The house began to list. Without sufficient time to think, Simon simply ran forward, trying to reach the front door. As he ran, it became harder for his feet to maintain a grip on the carpeted floor.

He reached the archway leading to the living room. He looked at the front door, which was about twenty feet away from him up a steep slope. Simon turned his head and looked down at the bank of windows. He saw that only the house seemed to be tilting; the grounds of the Estate were still level.

However, the grounds were rapidly being flooded with water.

At this point, Simon thought the best course of action would be to run for the door and try to get on top of the capsizing mansion. He slid one foot onto the marble floor of the living room, and then another. He had to lean forward to keep his balance, but his feet were still gripping the floor.

Simon crept closer and closer to the door. The sound of water and creaking metal was thundering in his ears. One foot, followed by another. The house had stopped moving for the moment and he was now only about ten feet from the door. His feet were keeping a good grip.

He inched closer to the entrance. With only about seven feet left, the automatic door clicked and swung open. Simon looked on in horror as he saw heavy raindrops begin trickling down through the opening and onto the marble floor. His pulse quickened.

His feet began moving faster, trying desperately to avoid the small streaks of water that flowed toward him. He was now only about three feet from the entrance. From there, he could feel the wind blowing outside, as well as the cold air falling down into the house.

Suddenly, he felt one of his feet slide. Simon froze, clinging with both hands to the marble floor. He didn't dare breathe. He only moved his eyes to see more raindrops falling toward him. Slowly, water crept underneath his palms, down again, and over his dry foot.

Simon felt another slip. He had slid about four inches. He looked back up at the door and saw that the entire floor glistened with a layer of water.

Still, the door was his only chance. He carefully lifted one hand away from the marble.

Immediately, he heard a sickening squeak as his small body slid down another five feet until he reached a portion of the floor that had not been covered by water yet. Simon looked down at the windows and the deep body of water that had grown beyond them. He then turned his head upward to see the door swing closed.

Water continued to trickle down the living room's floor until it reached him. Cool water soaked into the fur on his palms and feet, as well as the cloth of his sweatshirt.

With the added weight of the water, Simon felt himself barely able to hold on. Any additional movement would cause him to fall.

Then, as if it was listening to his thoughts, the Estate listed further. Simon slid down the marble floor, past the elevator shaft, past the chaise lounge in the middle of the room, and towards the stairway. Intuitively, he reached a hand out and grasped the last banister. The house continued to tilt until it had reached a perfect ninety-degree angle.

Simon held on tightly as he dangled from the staircase. He looked down at the flood just below the wall of windows; it had grown worse. Powerful waves reached up and smashed against the glass.

"It doesn't look that bad, sir," a voice said.

Simon looked over to see Alden hanging from a banister on the other staircase.

"Alden!" Simon yelled over the sound of waves and rain outside. "What the hell is going on?"

"I don't know, sir. I… I…" He looked deeply into the crashing waves below. The frigid water and the thin glass would mean certain death if either one of them were to fall. The butler looked back at Simon and a perverse smile flashed across his face light a bolt of lightning.

"I don't believe it," he said peacefully over the waves and wind. He looked down at the water again.

"I don't believe it."

Alden closed his eyes and let go of the banister. Simon's eyes widened as the elderly butler fell through the glass and into the water below, vanishing below the waves.

"Alden!" There was nothing Simon could do. He simply hung there, dangling by both hands, looking down into the darkening water below him.

Simon's eyes widened further as he saw that the water was not only darkening, but rising as well. A whirlpool had begun to form where Alden's body had landed. The water level shot up, threatening to envelop Simon in a matter of seconds. He craned his neck, looking for some way out of this. But there was nothing.

And, despite the prospect of his imminent death, the only thing he could think of was Jeanette and the thought he had earlier.

"All my fault," he repeated as he closed his eyes. The water below surged and pulled him under.

Simon snapped his eyes open to the sight of his ceiling fan. He sat up quickly in his bed and looked around. To his right, he saw the side of his clock. On his sheets, he saw the blurry outline of a pajama shirt. He looked down at his lap and saw the metal frames of his glasses. He reached out with his right hand, only to realize that it had been covered in a bandage. He put the glasses on with his left hand.

As his vision adjusted, he looked to his right to see a small figure sitting on a chair next to his bed. The blur gradually came into focus.

"Good morning," Tulig said. "Sleep well?" He took a sip from a cup of tea and smiled.

* * *

**First, please don't kill me. Everything above happened in one way or another.**

**Second, if you've made it this far, a review would be greatly appreciated.**


	5. The Method

**Chapter Five - The Method**

* * *

Alvin looked down on the lighted floor and sighed. A glitter of light reflected in his eyes. He then raised his arm and put a finger to his ear. "Alright. Go ahead, doctor."

He actively tried not to wince as his small earpiece screeched in his ear, eventually giving way to low static and the voice of Dr. Gregor.

"Very well. I'll transmit in one hundred and fifty seconds. Get out of there."

"Doctor?" Simon asked. His face contorted into a mixture of perplexity and anger.

Alvin dropped his hand to his side and looked back into Simon's deep blue eyes. "Sorry, Simon."

The fear washed out of Simon's face. His jaw clenched as a surge of indignation took hold. "What did you do?"

"My best advice is to relax." A reassuring smile flickered across Alvin's face.

"What did you do?"

Alvin did not respond. He simply turned out into the hallway, leaving Simon alone in the surveillance room. He walked quickly down the long hallway, through the marble living room and out through the automatic door which had opened for him.

Outside, his car was still waiting for him. He jumped into the back seat as the unseen driver started the engine and drove out, down the driveway. As the car rolled away from the Estate, Alvin stood up on his seat and looked out from the back window. Standing on his toes, he peered out to see the Estate still standing ominously against the starless night's sky.

Nothing had changed.

The car approached the wrought-iron gate. As the black metal mass drew closer, the gate remained shut. The car slowed to half a crawl and crept its way to the metal bars of the front gate. It was now less than a fraction of an inch from the metal bars.

Then, as the silver bumper made contact with the black iron, the gate swung open. The car lurched forward, causing Alvin to fall against the seat-back.

He pushed himself up against the leather and took one last look at the Estate. From what he could tell, everything was normal. The doctor's plan hadn't worked.

Feeling a sting of defeat, Alvin let himself slide down against the leather and down onto the seat.

He turned his head to look out the side window. The outside was dark. Oppressively dark. Absolutely nothing could be seen. No trees, no stars, nothing. Only blackness. Blackness that sent up a divide between the car and the Estate. A blackness that now enveloped Alvin and the car he rode in.

Suddenly, the car shook. Alvin gripped the edge of the seat.

It shook again, as though it was driving over a series of speed bumps. Alvin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had made the trip back from the Estate once before, but that was during the day. The disorientation felt even more severe now that he couldn't get his bearings.

He opened his eyes to see a thick mist pouring into the car through the air-conditioning vents. Alvin closed his eyes again and lay down horizontally on the back seat. The cool mist swirled around his fingertips as it continued to fill the car. It crept higher, covering Alvin's chest and flowing over his face.

Finally, the fog had completely filled the car. Alvin tried to calmly breathe. As he did, he felt the cold mist rush down his throat and into his lungs. He had no urge to cough. He only began to feel dizzy. If he could have seen the car's interior through the mist, it would have been spinning.

Alvin felt another bump, followed by another. His heart began to beat harder. He could feel his beating heart in the back of his throat. However, he knew that he must continue to breathe normally.

His breath was choppy now. Alvin suddenly became aware of his shaking hands. To calm himself, he tried flattening his palms against the seat. But, when he did, he noticed a change: the leather seat had become cool and unyielding. The surface he was lying on had been replaced by a metal slab.

Alvin opened his eyes and pressed a hand against a solid glass surface to his right. As he did, he felt a powerful rush of air. The fog was quickly drawn out through a vent near his feet. Alvin looked around to see himself now inside a narrow glass tube intersecting a metal table.

The tube slid down, past his feet and gave him room to move.

"Don't sit up," spoke a voice from the other side of the room.

Alvin heaved himself up and tried to stand. This room, having no fog in it and just enough light to see the far wall, _was_ spinning from Alvin's perspective. He tried to keep his blurry vision focused on the blue computer monitor in the corner, but the room still felt like it was spinning.

Eager to see the results of the doctor's plan, Alvin tried moving one of his feet forward.

He immediately fell off from the side of the table and onto the cold linoleum floor. Dr. Gregor turned in his chair, looked at Alvin for a moment, and then quickly turned back to his work.

"I told you not to move."

Alvin rubbed the part of his arm he had landed on. "Don't worry. I got this. No problem at all."

With his dizziness subsiding, Alvin lurched forward. He had regained most of his balance and his vision was rapidly clearing up.

He shook his head and started walking toward the monitor. He made it about five steps before he was pulled back onto the floor by something. Alvin threw a hand onto the back of his neck and ran his fingers over a small plastic disk with a wire protruding from it. He slid a fingernail under it and peeled it away from the bare spot on his neck.

With a look of genuine concern on his eyes, Dr. Gregor pushed himself away from his computer.

"You didn't damage the machine, did you? I can't just go out and buy another one of those, you know."

"You're machine's fine, doctor." Alvin took no offense. He had gotten used to this sort of treatment after a few days. Every day he was reminded that _he_ was expendable, but the machine had to be looked after.

Alvin climbed onto the back of the doctor's chair and surveyed the screen. On it was the image of Simon resting in his bed in what looked like late afternoon. Alvin's brow furrowed.

"Did it work?"

"Apparently not."

"What happened?"

"The treatment failed. As soon as I introduced the image, the subject's…"

Alvin shot the doctor a harsh scowl.

"…_your brother's_ mind apparently began to shut down."

"Okay, no problem. You've got a thousand other ideas, right?"

"I have a few, yes."

Alvin clapped his hands together. "Alright. When do I go back in?" He jumped down from the chair and bounded over to the metal table. The doctor turned slowly in his chair to face him.

"Twenty-four hours," Dr. Gregor said loudly.

Alvin stopped moving. He turned his head and glared at the doctor.

"Why so long?"

"Chimeranol is a very dangerous drug." He stood up and began turning off machines throughout the lab. "You need time to readjust."

"I thought I wasn't getting a high enough dose, or something."

"It's true; Simon is getting much more Chimeranol pumped into him at once. But look at him, Alvin." The doctor's voice was softer now. "Look at what it does to him. I do need to give you some of it, just so that the Construct will let you in and out. But too much for too long could leave you like your brother."

Alvin turned his face away from the doctor. He swallowed back a lump growing in his throat.

"I hate seeing him like that, doctor. I've never seen him like that. It…" He trailed off. Alvin let out a deep sigh before turning to face the doctor again.

Dr. Gregor nodded his head. "Come back tomorrow. I have another idea I'd like to try."

Alvin, now rubbing the square of flesh on his neck, nodded and walked slowly out of the laboratory.

"Alvin," Dr. Gregor said. Alvin stopped in the doorway and turned his head to face him. "We'll bring him back."

Alvin simply forced a smile and pushed the door open.

* * *

**Guess what, another chapter! And if anyone can guess what inspired this story, I'll give you a cookie.**

**Reviews are appreciated.**


	6. Records

**Chapter Six - Records**

* * *

"Sleep well?" Tulig asked from his chair in Simon's room. He sat holding a small porcelain saucer and a steaming cup of tea. The mysterious figure still wore his cream colored suit and his insufferably artificial smile. His blue eyes pierced into Simon's.

Simon sat up on his pillow and rubbed his eye with his bandaged right hand. He looked out toward the window. The sky was hazy with heavy overcast that looked like it threatened to burst with rain. The clouds themselves were a deep, blood red. The sun must have been either setting or rising. He was unsure which.

"Who are you?" Simon was surprised by the sound of his own voice. It was weak and raspy. Exhausted.

"I am Tu. Or Tulig, if you like. I am the chief administrator at the Estate."

Tulig held out his hand. Simon simply stared back at him.

The jovial chipmunk pulled his hand back and wrapped it around his cup of tea. "But, of course, we met this morning."

"That. How much of that actually happened?"

"See for yourself."

Simon looked down at his bandaged right hand. A bit of dried blood could be seen near his knuckles.

"The bandage is largely superfluous at this point, but I would keep it on for a couple of days, just to remind you to relax."

Simon grasped an end of the bandage with his left hand and pulled it away from his fur. On his knuckles, he could see the bloody remnants of a few small cuts. He closed his eyes and leaned back on his pillow.

"Why are you holding me here?"

"Anyone would think you're locked in, the way you talk."

"Aren't I?"

Tu's smile widened. "Simon, if you truly wanted to leave, there is nothing I could do to stop you." He put down his cup of tea, stood up and leapt from the chair to the bed. He walked softly toward the confused chipmunk lying underneath the tightly tucked sheets.

"But, then again you won't leave, will you? You know there is nothing beyond the forest, Simon. You know that this is a safe place. You love the Estate."

"I'll certainly miss it when I'm gone," Simon sarcastically added. Tulig simply smiled again.

"Rest, Simon. Don't worry. We'll cure you. No more nightmares. If you have so much as a bad dream, you'll come whimpering to tell it to me."

Tulig turned, creating a small swirl in the sheets beneath his feet, and strode toward the door.

Simon strained to sit up as far as he could and made an effort to clear his throat before speaking.

"What happened to Alden?"

Tulig stopped, not looking back in Simon's direction.

"Your butler is dead, Simon." The administrator then slid down from the bed, pushed open the door in front of it, and was gone.

Despite feeling terrible physically, Simon's mind felt clearer than it had since the day he arrived. He threw off the heavy covers, jumped down onto the soft white carpet and entered his bathroom.

Simon stared into his own reflection. He looked calm and composed. His eyes no longer looked frightened and dark with confusion, but now burned with a newfound intensity. The Estate had him trapped, but he wasn't going to let himself give up. Parts of his mind wanted only to crawl back under his sheets and sleep until these thoughts of resistance and escape had faded. However, the facet of his mind that could be seen shining through his blue eyes shouted at him to keep fighting.

As he called attention to his appearance in the mirror, Simon noticed the chain around his neck again. He reached down into his shirt and removed the black key he had used to enter the library earlier. With a quick jerk of his wrist, he snapped the silver chain and let the key fall into the sink below. Simon looked back up into his reflection.

When he identified the reflections in the mirror, he let out a mental sigh. According to the reflection, Tulig stood directly behind him.

"Do you know the way?" the hallucination asked.

Simon swung his head, stared into the empty room for a moment, and finally looked back into the mirror. Tulig was gone, just as he had come to expect.

Before stepping away from the mirror, Simon grabbed a bar of soap that was sitting on the rim of the sink. He tossed it into the air a few times like a baseball before turning sharply and hurling it into the large reflective surface. The mirror shattered, sending shards of light and silver plummeting down into the sink, completely covering Simon's black key.

Simon walked calmly out of the bathroom, smiling as he went, and continued out through bedroom and the green room and onto the living room balcony. He had had quite enough of this place. If he was being held against his will, he at least wanted to know the charges against him. And, since everyone else had either vanished or died, he thought the best person to confront would be Tu.

The chipmunk pushed his palm against the door to the room labeled SHORT TERM, which swung open without any effort. He scanned over the room.

Nothing. Tu was not there. Even his chair behind the desk had vanished. And every display screen only showed the image of Simon standing in the doorway. He moved in further and as he did, the imaged changed to follow him. They all seemed to be tuned to one unseen camera.

Simon walked nearer to the glass desk. He noticed that now, along with the strange laptop, the only thing on the desk was a red telephone. He craned his neck to see the phone more clearly without actually jumping up on the desk, but as he did, from somewhere behind him he heard a quiet whirr followed by a dull thud. Cautiously, he turned around to find the source of the noise.

There, on the wall to his left, was his answer. The door labeled LONG TERM had opened. Simon slowly moved across the room and peered into the door frame.

The room the heavy metal doors protected was dark. With the brightness of SHORT TERM, it was almost impossible to see inside. Simon narrowed his eyes and moved closer. He could now make out general outlines of shelves and long corridors. The room was also cold. He could feel a stream of cold air pouring out through the frame.

But Simon was still unsatisfied with how little he could see. He tentatively took another step forward, crossing the threshold into the darkness. His eyes took a moment to adjust, but once they did, Simon found himself standing in a massive storage room. Large metal boxes were stacked on shelves which created hallways and corridors stretching further than he could clearly see. Some of the boxes on ground level were open. They contained tapes, disks, books and every other storage medium imaginable. Photographs, diagrams, hard drives, audio tapes. This room contained more information than most libraries Simon had seen.

Simon walked swiftly down one of the corridors. He passed shelves and shelves of clean, dustless metal boxes. Every few feet, he would come to what looked like another automatic door. He tried to force one open, but found it to be securely locked.

As he walked, one storage box in particular caught his eye. The top had already been removed and inside were about twenty stacks of photographs. At the top of one of the stacks was a picture from many years ago. It showed Simon and Jeanette walking through a park or a garden. He remembered this day and smiled. It was two years ago. Simon and Jeanette had just been accepted by the same college. It was one of the happiest days of his life. It meant that he would be able to stay with the person he loved for at least another four years. He pulled another photo out from the stack.

It was then that Simon began to worry. The next photo was nearly the same as the first, but looked as though it had been taken just a few seconds later. The next picture in the stack had the same look. Simon flipped through picture after picture, letting each simply fall to the cold cement floor. They had been taken in series. Every photograph in the stack was of the two of them walking through the park and, as far as he could remember, no one they knew had been there taking pictures.

This whole box, maybe everything in this section, was evidence that someone had been spying of the both of them. Simon threw the stack of photos to the floor. The squares of color fluttered and rustled and eventually settled on the floor until everything in LONG TERM was totally silent.

Suddenly, the whirr of electric motors broke the silence. Simon looked over his shoulder and saw one of the metal automatic doors sliding open. It came to a halt with a muffled thud.

A beeping noise came from the room beyond the dark doorway. It was slow but rhythmic. Simon realized quickly that it was a heart monitor. He walked away from the pile of surveillance photos and entered the room.

It was darker there than it was in the depths of LONG TERM, but Simon guided himself with the sound of the heart monitor. He took five steps forward and was stopped in his tracks by a blinding light. He held up a hand to shield himself from the fluorescent bulb that hung from the ceiling. As his eyes adjusted, he saw that the walls were made of white tile. The room smelled of disinfectant. He shot his eyes downward to avoid the light and saw that the floor was made of marble.

Finally, an image of a hospital bed came into focus. Simon's heart sank. He stumbled forward and lunged onto the bed. There, silent and unmoving, was Jeanette Miller, tightly wrapped underneath stiff hospital sheets. Simon moved closer. He took one of her hands in his own. A smile burst onto Simon's face as Jeanette's eyes fluttered open.

"Si… mon?" she whispered between deep, strained breaths.

"It's me, Jean. I'm here." Simon's chest filled with electric happiness. He wanted only to shout with joy at finding her, but was careful to keep his composure. He took a deep breath. "I found you."

Jeanette suddenly looked worried. Her eyes began to dart back and forth. The heart monitor's pace quickened. "Simon. Don't leave me here. Don't leave me. Please."

Simon gripped her hand more tightly. "I won't. I swear I won't."

As soon as the words left his lips, the door behind him slid open, revealing two figures dressed in raincoats. Simon closed his eyes and let a single tear fall.

The door to LONG TERM whirred as it opened. The two figures, one holding each arm, carried Simon into SHORT TERM. Behind the glass desk, one of the lighted squares of floor slid away, revealing darkness below. Out from this darkness rose the desk chair carrying Tulig. The tall chipmunk shook slightly as the chair locked into position behind the desk. Simon looked on at him with contempt and loathing.

"Guards?" Simon said while dangling by his arms. "You need guards now?"

Tulig spoke as he casually adjusted one of his cufflinks, not even looking at Simon. "Apparently."

"What are you doing to her?"

Tulig finally looked up.

"Why are you keeping her here?" Simon persisted.

Tulig jumped down from the desk chair and walked confidently across the room. He looked up at Simon.

"If this works on you, it will work on her."

With that, he snapped his fingers. One of the guards pulled a vial of purple liquid out from his black raincoat pocket. The other produced a syringe. Simon felt a sharp pain in the side of his neck as the guard injected him with some unknown solution. His vision began to blur.

"You can't do this to me," Simon gasped. He felt his chest getting heavier. White flashes of light began to invade his vision. "I don't care who you are, do you hear me? I… I… I…"

"'I, I, I,'" Tulig repeated as he returned to his chair which immediately began to retract into the floor again. In a few seconds, the chipmunk in the cream colored suit disappeared.

Simon's vision began to smear to one angle. Everything in the room seemed to be drifting in one direction. He struggled against the drug. Simon fought to keep consciousness. But, eventually, the drug took full effect. The two guards carried Simon out of the room as the bright lights faded to black.

* * *

**You guys, for seriously. Is this making any sense? Any at all? If not, I'd like to know.**

**Maybe you found the last chapter unbearable and nearly impossible to read, or maybe you didn't. Either way, I can't do anything about it unless you say something. Help me help you.**


	7. The Ocean

**Chapter Seven – The Ocean**

_**The song at the end is from the last minute and a half of the original version of Help! by the Beatles (not chipmunked), if anyone was curious.**_

* * *

Simon's eyes fluttered open to the darkened ceiling in his room. His gaze met with ribbons of yellow light that danced and drifted like the reflection of water. He rolled his head over on his pillow and stared into the source: the curtains on the far end of the room glowed yellow from the powerful lights below as they fluttered in the breeze. The light they captured shone brightly in areas of the otherwise dark ceiling.

And there, standing with his back to the room as he looked out over the grounds, was Tu. He stood silently on the balcony with his hands neatly folded behind his back. As quietly as he could, Simon lifted off his heavy covers, landed softly on the floor and walked across the room onto the balcony.

Simon stood for a moment in the threshold of the glass doors. He stared intently at the back of Tu's furry head. This man. This loathsome, wretched man stood behind everything that had been done here. He was responsible for his imprisonment. He had trapped Jeanette in the vault downstairs. Part of him wanted to find a way to make Tulig suffer. Somehow, to make him feel a sample of the pain he was causing.

Whispers of thoughts began to permeate Simon's mind. Twisted ideas of striking Tu in the back of the head, or pushing him over the edge of the balcony. "It would be easy," he told himself, "And, of course, it _is_ for the greater good."

Simon closed his eyes.

He calmed himself.

"How did I sleep?" he asked in a strong voice.

Tulig turned to present his infuriating smile. Simon was unsure if what he saw was caused by the low light, but he felt sure that the gold stripe on Tu's forehead had narrowed slightly.

"Sound as a bell. It would seem you're getting used to your life here."

Simon, now with his hands behind his back, moved to stand alongside Tu. "Don't_ you_ get too used to that idea."

Tulig's smile persisted. "You're still determined to leave us? Come now, Simon. I know you, perhaps better than you know yourself. You would never leave if it meant leaving _her_, now would you?"

Simon began to grow a small smile of his own. He turned and stared into Tulig's blue eyes with total, unwavering conviction.

"That is true. I won't leave."

Tulig turned his attention back to the grounds and what stood beyond.

"I'm going to do better than that."

Tulig's smile grew out of amusement as he waited for Simon to continue.

"I'm going to leave and come back."

The insufferable smile faded. Tu turned to face Simon again. "Come back?"

"Come back and free Jeanette from that cell downstairs. Come back and save anyone else you may be holding here. Then I'm going to destroy this place, obliterate it. And you with it."

Tu's smile was gone. All that was left was a cold stare. Simon shot back the same stare and the two stood locked for a moment.

"You plan to do this yourself?"

"I'll bring back the police, the military. Anyone who will listen."

"And what makes you think the military has jurisdiction?"

"What you're doing here can't be legal."

"You object to what I've done here."

"_That_ would be putting it gently."

Tulig paused and attempted to regain his composure. "You are angry, and understandably so."

Simon simply continued to stare back with cold blue eyes.

"You'd like me dead, Simon, so why don't you admit it?"

Simon was shocked that the Chief Administrator had deduced this, but was careful not to let his emotions show through his eyes.

"I admit I'd like to see you dead." Simon took a step closer to Tulig. "But I am not a murderer."

"Not yet."

"I'll find a way out of this game of yours."

"Are you quite sure that it is a game?"

"Yes, because you make the rules."

"I do not make the rules here."

"But you do play by them."

At this moment, Tulig's patience broke. His cold stare boiled over to show seething anger. "Do you want my advice, Simon?" he shouted.

Simon stepped back. His cold, convicted expression gave way to a look of trepidation.

"Get used to it! Get used to the locked doors! Accept the walls that exist here! You're trapped, so why don't you at least make an effort to _feel_ free?"

Tu turned on his heels and marched out of the room. As he reached the door, he turned back for one last look at Simon. What he saw was a chipmunk in a blue sweater and glasses standing on the balcony's railing.

"Thinking of jumping?"

Simon looked over his shoulder toward his captor.

"Never," he replied in a collected tone.

Tulig nodded and left the room. The door swung shut behind him, coming to a stop with a sharp click.

Immediately, Simon jumped down onto the stone balcony and bounded over to the door. He pressed his hand against it, but it did not move. He was locked in. Simon glanced back over toward the balcony. At the moment, it seemed to be the only means of escape. He began pacing back and forth.

Downstairs, in a room labeled SHORT TERM, Tulig stood on his desk staring at an image of Simon pacing in his room. Back and forth. Back and forth. It was hypnotic. The Chief Administrator watched in silence, hoping that Simon would eventually get tired and crawl back into bed.

Seven minutes passed. Simon continued pacing. By now, Tu felt like he could hear his footsteps tapping through the ceiling. He reached down to his glowing keyboard and tapped out three keystrokes.

Upstairs, Simon reached the door to the balcony. As he prepared to turn and start another lap, the yellow light of the curtains suddenly faded to darkness. He took a few blind steps forward onto the balcony. Every light in the yard had been shut off. There was no moon. No stars. Nothing to provide any light. Simon was forced to stand in place as his eyes gradually adjusted.

First, the sky became distinguishable over the tree tops. He now knew why there were no visible stars: thick clouds covered every part of the sky above the Estate. Slowly he became used to the low light. The railing and the balcony itself came into view. His eyes were strained, but he could now at least see a few feet in front of him.

Simon carefully climbed up onto the railing.

From what he remembered, he was nearly two stories from the ground. Below him were two support columns and, below that, a hedge marking the beginning of the garden. The entire descent was roughly twenty feet.

Simon took a deep breath of cool night air and leapt from the railing, landing on the outside rim of the balcony.

After he stabilized himself, he jumped again, this time grabbing hold of the support column below him. He slid down the column and landed in the hedge below. Leaves rustled as the chipmunk squirmed inside, desperately trying to wiggle his way out.

Simon finally fell out from the hedge, landing on his face. He stood up, adjusted his glasses, brushed off his shoulders and looked back up at the balcony he had come from. A smile crept back into his face.

"Tu should know better than to try to keep a chipmunk locked up," he thought.

In the cold quiet of the night, Simon ran on all fours toward the wrought-iron gate separating the former brightness of the Estate from the ominous darkness of the forest.

As he reached this last barrier, he began to doubt his plan. The bars of the gate were far closer together than he had thought. He had assumed that, once in the yard, he could easily slip through the gate. But the distance between the iron bars was only about an inch. Simon hung his head and put a hand to the edge of his prison.

Suddenly, the gate responded to his touch and flew open. Simon stood awestruck. Everything around him was quiet, save for a few rustling tree branches. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and his ears rung with loud thuds. Behind him was the madness of the Estate, but in front of him, _right in front of him,_ was freedom.

The smile that had been growing on his face all night broke loose and Simon presented his teeth to the darkness. His heart leapt. A warm surge of joy made him forget about his cold hands and feet, if only for a moment. Pressing as hard as he could onto the brick, Simon thrust himself forward. He stumbled, but quickly regained his balance and set off running into the darkness.

The feeling was wonderful. Cool air rushed across his face, washing away the pain and anger he had been keeping locked up inside. Simon closed his eyes and quickened his pace. Every time his hands touched the cool brick, every time his feet pushed off again behind him, Simon's head felt clearer. Hope felt as though it was physically flowing through his veins, and with every beat of his heart he pushed himself to run faster.

Every bound marked more distance between himself and his prison. He had escaped. The Estate was far behind him. Tu was far behind him. That bed and the ceiling fan above it. SHORT TERM, the guards…

Jeanette.

Simon suddenly became aware of his speed. His heart was pounding in his throat. He slowed his pace and began walking on his two feet.

As his thoughts drifted back to Jeanette in that cell, he felt a terrible pang of guilt at his happiness. How could he allow himself to feel this way when she was still trapped? How could he have left her there in the first place after he swore to stay with her?

"No," he told himself. "I will come back. I will save her. I just need to find a way back…"

He stopped dead. His eyes opened wide in the darkness, trying desperately to pick up even the faintest sliver of light.

But there was nothing. In his happiness, he had plunged himself into unspeakable blackness.

Simon had no idea where he was. He had been running a generally straight line when he started from the gate, but that must have been ten minutes ago. He could be anywhere now.

Simon moved his foot back and forth and felt small bits of dirt slide underfoot. The brick was gone. He had either run off the road, or the road had ended somewhere a few hundred yards back.

His beating heart still rung in his ears, but his hopefulness was gone. Fear was all that was left. Paralyzing fear that kept him anchored to where he stood, alone in the forest with no way back.

Back through the darkness, in a room labeled SHORT TERM, Tulig stood staring into his computer display. Green light beamed back and reflected in his eyes. On the screen was an image of a lone figure standing in the forest. Tulig straightened up and widened his smile.

As he did, the phone on his desk began to ring. The smiling figure lifted a finger to his ear and the ringing immediately stopped.

"Yes, I know," the Chief Administrator said out loud. Nothing about the situation bothered him. Simon's escape hadn't been anything of a problem.

"Don't worry," he assured the other end of the line. "He'll eventually give up and come back to his room. It's the only place he has." He lowered his finger and stared back into the display. Tu's smile widened further as he saw Simon take a few tentative steps forward.

Alone in the crushing darkness, Simon concluded that his only option was to move forward to cover some ground before the sun rose. There was nothing in the forest. No animals, no insects. Nothing to make any noise.

And there was nothing to provide any light. The view overhead was still gray with cloud cover. The stars behind them provided just enough light to separate the sky from the tops of the trees, nothing more. The ground was completely dark. Simon wished for a moment that he could at least see the stars. Then he may be able to get his bearings.

But it then occurred to him that, in order to even guess at his location, he would need to know the time of year and which hemisphere he was in. The chipmunk knew neither.

Simon gradually came to a stop, listening intently as his footsteps fell silent. Again, there was nothing to hear in the forest. No breeze to be felt, no road to be seen. His ears began to ring as they strained in the absolute stillness. He held his breath to try to hear anything.

Nothing. Simon pressed his eyes closed. He had doomed himself as well as Jeanette in this escape attempt. He began straining his mind, telling himself that he should have thought this through, when a sound caused his ears to perk up.

He snapped his eyes open and listened. The sound was dull and persistent. It felt like more of a presence than a sound. But whatever he was hearing slowly became clearer.

Something powerful and crisp off in the distance. Something like a waterfall or…

An ocean.

_The_ Ocean.

Images flooded back. Vague memories of dreams and nightmares. Simon immediately took off in the direction of the sound. At first, he could barely hear it over the sound of his footsteps but as he drew closer, it grew to an intimidating roar.

As he ran, the trees began to thin. More and more of the stormy sky became visible. Finally, the trees were gone and Simon found himself running on cold sand. The chipmunks struggled to keep up his speed as the level ground rose to a steep incline.

Simon pressed on, kicking up sand behind him as he went. The sound of the Ocean was inescapable now. Thunderous crashing of waves filled the night air.

He pressed his feet deep into the sand with every step, trying to keep from sliding back down the dune. Sand covered everything up from his feet to the middle of his sweatshirt. He would probably spend days clearing the grit out from his fur, but such things did not concern him as he climbed. Hope and happiness were the only things occupying his mind. This ocean could mean a ship, and a ship could mean escape. And escape could save both himself and Jeanette.

Finally, the terrain beneath his feet leveled off. He stood in near darkness at the top of the dune, trying to catch his breath. The moon shone more brightly through the clouds here, and Simon took a moment to allow his eyes to adjust again.

In front of him, past the precipice of the dune, was an immense beach. The sand was a gray plane of nothingness stretching out for what must have been miles. No rocks, no driftwood or seaweed. No features whatsoever. Just endless, perfectly flat sand.

Simon drew his eyes further out and was able to see the edge of the water. Dull, murky water breaking in small waves at the shore was the only thing besides sand in his field of vision. It was truly a bleak sight, but somehow Simon felt hopeful as he stared at it. He slid down the dune and began running for the shoreline.

He could feel cold mist on his face now. This mist, along with the sand that was matted deep in his fur, should have bothered him. But the only thing on his mind was the Ocean. He had to touch it. He had to make sure it was real. He was only about ten feet from the edge of the shore when he noticed something.

A light. A yellowish light, just below the surface of the water in front of him. And it was moving. Every step Simon took was matched with a move forward by this eerie glow.

Suddenly, the area around the light bubbled. Simon jumped back as a bright mass rose from the water. He put his hands over his eyes to protect himself from the blinding light. As his eyes refocused, he was able to see the outline of a wheel. It soon became clear what he was standing toe to toe with. On this beach, nearly a mile from the Estate, Simon stood staring into the headlights of a blue jeep.

He took a step back. The car remained stationary.

Another step, and still nothing. Simon decided to move further down the beach. He still felt a need to physically feel the water.

One step, and the car lurched. Simon froze and stared at the mass of metal. The jeep's headlights beamed onto the beach, now at a slight angle. Looking down at the wheels, Simon saw that the car had turned to match the step he had taken.

He began to run. Immediately, the car revved and began to drive down the shore to keep up with him. Simon pushed himself, but he was no match for the speed of the car. It matched his speed perfectly, constantly blocking him from getting any closer to the shore. It was infuriating. He had come all this way…

Simon slowed back to a walk. The car slowed as he did, still keeping him about six feet from the water's edge. He could hear the crashing of waves. He could feel the mist on his face. He was so close.

He picked up his pace again. Simon ran as fast as he could, still unable to outrun the jeep. He closed his eyes, but still could hear the car's engine just a few feet away. His arms and legs burned and his breath felt cold in his mouth.

Heart pounding in his chest and having put no distance between himself and the car, Simon found that he simply could not run any further. He collapsed to his hands and knees. The car slowed to a stop, its headlights beaming down the beach.

Just over the horizon, there was a flash of lightning followed by the soft roll of thunder a few seconds later.

Simon's arms were trembling. He stared down at the beach, defeated. There was nothing he could do. He could run on for hours, but never get any closer to the water. There, on this lonely beach, Simon came to the painful realization that he would never be able to reach the Ocean.

More than a mile away, in a room labeled SHORT TERM, a chipmunk wearing a cream colored suit pressed a button on his computer. The car lurched as it shifted into reverse and slowly receded into the water. The jeep became a bubbling bright patch in the Ocean, and finally disappeared completely.

Simon rolled over onto his back. His chest burned and his heart was still racing. He closed his eyes and tried to rest.

Then, a flash of white. Simon sat up with a look of horror. "No," he said out loud. "No, no no."

White flashes continued in the corners of his eyes. Simon hauled himself to his feet, but his dizziness pulled him straight back down. He lay on the beach with his hands over his ears.

After a few moments, the dizziness subsided and his vision returned to normal. He lay listening to the sound of the Ocean, trying to ignore the other sound that now rang in his ears.

As he watched two Estate guards come running gown the dunes toward him, Simon distinctly heard singing over the powerful sound of crashing waves.

**_Help me if you can, I'm feeling down,_**

Simon forced himself onto his feet. His heart was still pounding, but he somehow found the strength to begin running down the beach again. The guards ran after him, but his small size and speed allowed him to dart and weave between the slower humans.

But his fatigue began to wear on him. Eventually, the two guards caught up to the chipmunk and each grabbed one of his arms. Simon tried to dig his feet into the sand, but to no effect. A plume of sand was kicked into the air as the guards lifted him from the beach.

**_and I do appreciate you being 'round._**

The guards dressed in black raincoats carried Simon back through the forest. It was still too dark to see anything reliably, but he could hear every step the guards took. Every inch of progress, every foot he fought to gain was being taken away. He struggled, wrenching his arms as hard as he could, trying to break free. But still they carried him, closer and closer to the iron gate.

**_Help me get my feet back on the ground._**

The gate was in view now. The lights in the yard had come back on. The image was sickening to Simon. He had been so close.

**_Won't you please, please help me?_**

And there, standing in front of the mansion's automatic door was Tulig, wearing his nerve-grating grin. He watched in silence as the guards carried Simon down the driveway and closer to the door.

**_When I was younger, so much younger than today,_**

**_I never needed anybody's help in any way._**

Simon felt himself becoming dizzy again. His vision doubled, then tripled and finally became an incomprehensible blur.

**_But now these days are gone, I'm not so self assured._**

**_Now I find I've changed my mind and opened up the doors._**

With one hand outstretched, Tulig ushered the guards into the Estate, smiling as he did so. Simon fought against them, but still found himself trapped firmly in their grasp. Hope of fighting his way out had faded.

**_Help me if you can, I'm feeling down,_**

**_and I do appreciate you being 'round._**

The automatic door whirred as it opened. In one last instant of boiling anger, Simon yelled out at the top of his lungs. In that moment, he regretted not killing Tu when he had the chance. In that one moment, he felt almost capable of murder.

He could have ended everything. He could have escaped. But, unable to shout any longer, Simon merely let his eyes flicker shut as the oblivion of sleep took over.

The guards carried Simon into the Estate and brought him back to his room.

**_Help me get my feet back on the ground._**

**_Won't you please, please help me?_**

**_Help me! Help me!_**

Tulig remained standing on the front steps, smiling as the wrought-iron gate creaked closed. The two halves of the gate met and clanked together, sending a loud, metallic sound echoing through the forest into the nothingness beyond. The gate strained, as though it was not designed to stay closed. But after the sound of twisting metal subsided, the gate let out one final click as the two halves locked.

* * *

That is all for a while, I'm afraid. Let me know what you think. **If you liked it, tell me. I'd love to hear it. If you didn't, please feel free to let me know.**

**Reviews are appreciated.**


	8. Echoes

**Chapter Eight – Echoes**

_**Sorry about the wait. Writing this has been rather irritating ****and I felt like I needed a break. No significant rewrites have taken place.**_

_**And, I know I've been beating you over the head with suspense and mystery. I want to say that confusion is not the main intent of this story. The next series of chapters should serve to clear things up.**_

_**A bit.**_

* * *

It was cold outside, an unpleasant cold. A harsh sting whipped across Alvin's face as he walked. Slush layered every inch of sidewalk. Every step he took further soaked his feet with freezing water. Right now, the only thing on his mind was getting home, back into the warmth.

But the cold wasn't the only thing he sought to escape. The pains of the last few months were nearly unbearable. These events that kept his thoughts trapped had inflicted such a wound on his family. A wound that may never heal. Jeanette was in the hospital, still unresponsive. And Simon was desperately struggling with his involvement in that accident.

Still, Alvin had been the lucky one. Physically, he managed to escape with only a few bruises and a cut on the forehead that had nearly healed by now. Mentally, he was lucky, as well. He could only imagine how terrible this must have been for Simon. Alvin could hear signs of this struggle in his brother's voice every time he spoke. Always the same: pain, mixed with anger and monumental guilt.

Over the past month, Simon had been begun attending regular therapy sessions again, this time with a new doctor. Dr. Gregor, if he remembered right.

Simon was lucky. This was one of the doctors assigned to Jeanette's case. Alvin thought that this man must be able to help, even though all the other therapists hadn't. Even though his brother had rejected every other therapist he'd seen.

His feet had gone completely numb. There was only the sense of a mild sting on his ankles. But Alvin could see his house now, just down the street. As he walked nearer to the comfort of his destination, he noticed a light on in one of the second-floor windows. Simon's room.

This unsettling realization nearly made Alvin stop in his tracks. Simon should not have made it home so fast. It was only a little after eight and his therapy was supposed to last until eight-thirty, followed by the fifteen minute drive back from the hospital. Something was definitely wrong.

Alvin pushed open his front door and stepped into the warm house. Sharp stinging pain pulsed over his feet as the blood rushed back into them. Still, the pain was barely enough to get his attention. Alvin was instead focused on the light coming from Simon's room. If his brother was back this early, it could only mean that he had shut out another therapist. He still blamed himself for Jeanette's situation and so far wasn't letting any doctor, friend or family member help him get past that.

The chipmunk bounded up the stairs and began walking down the hallway toward the open bedroom door. All the other doors were closed, as expected. No one else was home yet. Alvin should have arrived to an empty house again, but now was faced with the daunting task of cheering Simon up. He wished he could help him. More than anything, he wanted to be able to bring Simon out of this cycle of blame and guilt, but he had no idea how. No matter what he said, Simon blocked out his words.

Alvin reached the end of the hall and stared at the open door. The crack of space between the door and the frame let through a sliver of yellow light that beamed against his face.

No noise.

With a tentative hand, Alvin reached out and pushed the door open further. He jumped a bit when he heard the door strike something that sounded like broken glass. Still pressing with his palm, he now felt something obstructing the door. Leaning into it with all of his weight, Alvin managed to push the door open wide enough to squeeze through. And as he saw what lay pushing against the door, his eyes widened with shock. The chipmunk's heart skipped a beat as he stood staring at his brother.

Simon lay on the floor amidst a field of broken glass. From what he could tell, his brother was not bleeding. However, this wasn't much to lift his hopes. He wouldn't be bleeding if he was dead.

Carefully avoiding shards of broken glass, Alvin stepped over to his brother. He let out a sigh of relief as he saw Simon's chest rise and slowly fall as he took a shallow breath. He wasn't dead. He had just passed out. But from what, he couldn't say.

Seeing that Simon was alright, Alvin took notice of the source of the broken glass. Beside his brother was a shattered picture frame. Alvin looked up. It seemed to have fallen from the desk beside the door.

Now fearing that his brother had fallen from the desk as well, Alvin quickly made his way to the cell phone he kept on his nightstand. He dialed 911 while trying his best to keep his eyes on his brother. Alvin was worried. More worried than he had been since the accident. He had never seen Simon react to therapy like this. Simon wasn't one to break things when he was upset, but everyone has their limit. He could only imagine what must have been going through his brother's mind. Until now, Alvin was under the impression that Simon didn't have such a 'limit.' But looking at Simon's favorite picture of Jeanette lying shattered next to his brother's unconscious body, he knew that this limit had been reached.

Alvin stared on, still helpless as the ringing in his phone stopped and the other line picked up. He opened his mouth to speak but immediately recoiled at a loud screeching sound coming through the phone.

"…Help me save him, Alvin…"

Alvin opened his eyes and stared into the whiteness of his ceiling.

The same dream. The same dream that he had been having every night since he began the procedure with Dr. Gregor. He didn't feel like obsessing over it anymore. Any meaning he could extract from that dream simply was not worth it. Alvin heaved off the covers, slid out of bed and began walking toward the bathroom.

Getting out of bed, he suddenly noticed how very alone he was. Simon of course wasn't in his bed, but he usually managed to wake up before Theodore. But before he could become adequately concerned, another fit of nausea threatened to knock him off his feet. He steadied himself against the leg of his bed and proceeded to the bathroom.

The Chimeranol treatments were beginning to wear on him. Alvin couldn't close his eyes for more than a few seconds without feeling sick to his stomach. And, as he climbed onto the sink, the chipmunk was struck with sudden nausea.

The room spun slowly as the floor below him began to drift. He closed his eyes tightly, concentrating on his breathing. He truly didn't have the time to get sick right now, and tried with every ounce of willpower he had to keep from dry heaving.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Eyes still closed tightly.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

The feeling faded. Alvin opened his eyes again. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. He looked tired.

"More than that," he thought. "Exhausted."

His normally bright, brown eyes were dull and lifeless. His eyelids sagged, as though he hadn't slept in days. Alvin raised a hand and rubbed it against on the bald spot on his neck.

"It is necessary," he repeated to himself. He knew that, despite all the pain it was causing him, despite all the pain it had caused Simon, Dr. Gregor's procedure was for the greater good. His brother needed help and there was no way he could ignore that.

The chipmunk splashed some water onto his face and leapt down from the sink.

Downstairs, he expected to find Theodore sitting at the breakfast table, but found only Eleanor and Brittany eating in silence, both staring intently at their plates. He was worried now.

"Have you guys seen Theodore yet today?"

"He left," Brittany said without looking up from her food.

"Left?"

"A car picked him up earlier. I think it was from the hospital."

"Is he alright?"

Eleanor looked up at Alvin with a clearly forced look of optimism in her face. "Oh, he's fine. There's no problem. Really. Ask Dave. He said there's no problem."

Brittany put an arm around her sister and glared at Alvin. With just the slightest hint of remorse, Alvin mouthed an apology before leaving the room to find his caretaker.

"Dave!" he called out in the calmest voice he could manage.

A few seconds passed. Then, from the living room, came a reply. "Yes, Alvin?"

He found Dave sitting in a chair with a phone in his hand. Alvin carefully crept up toward him.

The caretaker looked tired. His hands shook slightly as he turned the phone over in his palm.

"Brittany said Theodore left."

"Yeah. He's fine. Don't worry."

Alvin simply stood in front of him, not saying a word.

Dave put the phone down on the floor and leaned toward him. "I got a call from Dr. Gregor. He thinks that the therapy isn't moving forward as quickly as it should be."

"What does that have to do with Theodore?"

"I don't know. He just said he needed to talk with him."

Alvin scowled. He tried to comprehend why Dave would let Theodore see Dr. Gregor alone. While he wasn't a kid anymore, he was still the youngest. Alvin still hung on to a sense of responsibility for his safety.

With an element of a glare in his face, he turned and left the room.

Dave called back to him. "Where are you going?"

"To the hospital. I'm already late."

"The doctor said you don't have to come in today."

Alvin continued walking. He had nearly reached the front door when he was intercepted by Brittany, whose glare had been replaced with a look of concern.

"Alvin."

The chipmunk stopped walking and waited for Brittany to speak.

"I… I'm sorry for that. I just didn't want Ellie to get scared for him, you know?"

Alvin nodded. "You're a good sister to her, Brittany." He turned away from her with a forced smile and slid his arms into his coat.

"Alvin," she almost shouted as she saw him move toward the door. "This… therapy or whatever it is. When you and the doctor get it worked out…"

"Yes?" Alvin asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Promise you'll let me use it to bring Jean back."

Alvin took a step closer to his counterpart. She hid it well, but when he looked closely he could see in her eyes the same helplessness he once saw in his own. He wanted to give her the chance to help her sister, but also didn't want her to get hurt.

"I don't know if you'll want to."

Brittany was speechless. She simply watched in silence as Alvin opened the door and headed out into the cold.

* * *

**There it is.**

**More backstory. One or two questions answered.**

**The next chapter is called 'The Conscience Whispers Night and Day' and I hope to have it up in a couple of days.**

**To anyone reading this, I wish to say thank you for your patience. Also, reviews are appreciated.**


	9. The Conscience Whispers Night and Day

**Chapter Nine – The Conscience Whispers Night and Day**

**

* * *

**

Alvin arrived at Dr. Gregor's lab angry and thoroughly chilled. With as much force as he could apply, the chipmunk shoved the door open and let it slam against the wall with a loud, metallic clank.

Harsh fluorescent light cut into the darkness of the room, creating a line across the floor. Perfectly distinct, light from darkness. Inside the room, Theodore stood in the bright half while Dr. Gregor remained, almost unseen, in the dark.

Alvin deepened his scowl when he saw a square of flesh exposed on the back of his younger brother's neck.

"Doctor, can I talk to you alone for a minute?" It was a demand.

Dr. Gregor moved away from Theodore, past the blue computer screen, past the metal table with the glass cover, and finally stopped in front of a metal door on the wall farthest from the door Alvin stood in. Through the darkness, Alvin saw the doctor raise a hand to usher the chipmunk inside.

Alvin let the door to the hallway close behind him as he cautiously followed the Dr. Gregor. The two figures left Theodore standing in the pale blue light from the computer console as the door to the back room slowly closed.

Somehow it was darker in there than it was in the lab. The only source of light was a crack between the door and the floor, softly glowing from the dim blue light of the lab. Alvin could only barely make out the doctor's face.

"What are you doing?"

"Theodore has… graciously volunteered to assist in my method," Dr. Gregor replied with a smugness that nearly made Alvin sick.

"'Volunteered?'"

"With an absolute minimum of coercion, I assure you."

"So, what? You're going to send him in along with me?"

"Of course not. That would be somewhat dangerous."

Relief washed over Alvin's face. Finally, a glimmer of humanity could be seen through the doctor's obsession with this procedure.

"No. The method is designed to support only one infiltrator at a time. That is why Theodore will be going in alone."

Hatred rushed through his veins again. The chipmunk could no longer maintain his composure.

"You can't do that!"

"I'm not. He volunteered."

Alvin slammed his hand against the metal door and quickly slid it behind his neck. He tried to take a few steps backward, but found he had no room to move. Instead he glared into Dr. Gregor's black, beady eyes.

"Sure. You probably lied to him, like you lied to me. You gave him promises of saving Simon, but you're only interested in this drug of yours. Your 'method'. But if you send Theodore in there, all you'll do is scar him like you scarred me! Well, it won't work this time! I'm taking my brother home."

The doctor immediately lashed back in a voice louder than he had ever spoken in. "You are here because the subject has a neural-reflexive relationship with you and that is all! You're role in my method was to create an emotional trigger in the subject, and you failed. I need someone who can succeed in that task. And as far as your accusations, I do not intend to harm anyone, and despite your opinion, thus far no one has been."

"No one's been harmed? What about Simon? You've seen him. That place is crushing him! Your method has crossed the line. You can't let this continue…"

"We are going to continue because Simon has not given us what we need yet..."

"My brother is not a lab animal!"

"Disillusionment," the doctor said with an infuriating smile growing across his lips. Never was it clearer that Dr. Gregor cared nothing for his opinion. Alvin was just another element in an experiment to him. Just another variable that had to be balanced.

"You may have lost faith in my method, but you haven't seen the _half_ of what I plan to do. I can assure you, you have not been completely disillusioned yet."

Alvin was speechless. All he could do is glare at the doctor. He was helpless again. Helpless to save _yet another_ brother.

"My decision is final. And, need I remind you that I am the only link you have to Simon at this point?"

The doctor emphasized the 't' on this last word. Dr. Gregor did this with many of his consonants, but Alvin hadn't noticed how irritating it was until now.

Still, he had a point. Argument wouldn't change his dependence on the doctor to save Simon. Alvin stared into the floor, not saying a word.

Noticing the signs of his victory evident in the chipmunk's face, Dr. Gregor continued. "Theodore will enter the Construct… in just a few hours."

…

Across an endless Ocean and through a maze of forest and fog, in a white room inside a mansion, sat Tulig, staring at his clear plastic computer screen. On it was a green sound-wave line. He reached out and tapped the glowing keyboard in front of him.

Every speaker in the room played the same message. Through distortion and a good bit of static, one phrase rang throughout the room.

"Theodore will enter the Construct… in just a few hours."

Tulig furrowed his brow. He had not been aware of someone named 'Theodore.' He had no knowledge of him, let alone of his connection to Simon. This irritated the Chief Administrator. He had to maintain control of the Estate, and the best way to do that was to know about everything within its gates. And if this 'Theodore' was to enter the Estate…

He jumped down from his desk and walked toward the large metal door labeled LONG TERM. The small figure stood silently with his hands behind his back as the metal doors slowly slid open, revealing the dark warehouse beyond.

The chipmunk stepped from the blinding light of his surveillance room into the cold blackness LONG TERM. Tulig emanated total confidence as he walked down one of the corridors. Passing columns of shelves and towers of metal crates, his blue eyes reflected nothing but his monumental self-assuredness. He could feel his authority coursing through his veins while his mind focused on one concept: Control.

His one goal here was to maintain control.

Simon, while he may resist The Estate at every turn, needed to be here. He needed to be investigated, if only to prevent him from injuring himself. Tulig told himself over and over again: "This is for his own protection."

Protection. Defense.

And, in Tu's eyes, the best way to defend a person was to control him. Control every aspect, every element. Every thought.

"Control over this new element.'" he thought as he walked past stacks of metal boxes.

Finally, he came upon the box he was searching for. Tulig reached into the already open container and removed plain looking, gray folder. He thumbed through the pages, intently looking for mention of the name 'Theodore,' until he caught sight of the heading 'FAMILY MEMBERS.'

The page was mostly black ink. Only a few names and personality descriptions were not covered in thick black bars. The chipmunk slowly drew his finger down the page until he found the name he needed.

"Ah," he remarked to the darkness. "The brother."

No longer distracted by his goal, Tulig let his gaze flow down to the cement floor he was standing on. Off only a few feet further down the corridor, was a pile of what appeared to be papers strewn about the floor.

He walked over to them, slightly less confidently than he had before. As he drew closer, Tulig identified the image as a pile of photographs. He reached down and picked one up.

Tulig's eyes hardened as he stared down on the picture of Jeanette and Simon walking through a park. He wanted to tear himself away from the picture, but couldn't. His hands shook slightly as emotion began to conflict with his desire for control.

The Chief Administrator closed his eyes and tore the picture in half. Without opening his eyes, he allowed to two halves of the picture to fall back into the pile.

Silence persisted for a moment.

Tuilg still stood with his eyes closed, trying with every ounce of his strength to silence his conscience.

Suddenly, a noise made him jump. A dull whirr followed by a soft click echoed through LONG TERM. Tulig turned slowly to see that a door had opened behind him. A beeping noise emanated from the darkness of the doorway.

A heart-monitor.

Knowing completely what lay on the other side of the door, Tulig took a step forward.

Fluorescent lights flickered on as he walked nearer to the hospital bed in the room, filling the silence between beeps with a sickening buzz.

Tulig leapt onto the surface of the bed and stood over Jeanette, who was peacefully sleeping beneath the sheets. He unfolded his arms and placed a hand on her head.

At that moment, emotion overpowered his need for control.

For a moment, Tu's conscience broke through. For a moment, he allowed himself to feel.

Tulig let out a trembling sigh as the gravity of the moment struck him. He closed his eyes tightly to prevent a tear from sliding down his face.

As he did, Jeanette's eyes fluttered open. She lifted a hand and tightly grasped Tulig's arm. The Chief Administrator immediately tried to straighten himself up.

Jeanette forced herself to speak in a raspy voice.

"Simon?"

A scowl grew over Tulig's face. He took a deep breath to steady himself and wrenched his arm away from Jeanette.

"Simon. Don't leave me here."

Tulig stepped off from the bed and landed gracefully on the floor. He began walking toward the exit.

"Don't leave me. Please."

The lights in the room flickered off, leaving Jeanette alone in the darkness with only the heart monitor for company as Tu walked through the corridor toward his surveillance room with his arms folded neatly behind his back. Tulig listened attentively, over the sound of Jeanette's pleas, as the metal door to the cell whirred and was sealed again with a quiet thud.

* * *

**Another chapter. There you have it.**

**And I'm afraid I have to say that, once again, it may be a while before more updates.**

**Your reviews are appreciated.**


	10. Beware of Knives, Keys and Kites

**Chapter Ten – Beware of Knives, Keys and Kites**

_**I was thinking of calling this chapter "Signs," but this title just sounded so delightfully strange.**_

_**Also, sorry this took so long. I'm back on a more open schedule again now. Updates should happen more regularly after this.**_

* * *

Grey. The sky was grey and featureless. One wide, oppressive coating of cloud covered the sky as Theodore looked up. Every few seconds, from some pocket deep within the blanket of cloud cover, would come the sudden flash of lightening, followed by the low grumbling of thunder. Theodore adjusted his shirt, now wishing that he had been provided with a jacket. He took one last apprehensive look at the black car that had delivered him, and began walking toward the door to the Estate.

As it did with every visitor, the large white automatic door whirred as it opened, finally coming to an abrupt stop with a pronounced click.

One tentative step at a time, Theodore ascended the small staircase leading to the door. Before entering, he peered inside seeing the grandiose living room of The Estate. He saw the backs of the twin staircases, the elevator shaft leading into the tall, vaulted ceiling, the massive bank of windows on the far end of the room. His eyes were drawn along the curved balcony upstairs and finally reached the chaise lounge chair in the center of the room. Its black fabric stood out like an island in an ocean of flawless white marble.

As he recovered from his astonishment, Theodore began to wonder where Simon was in all this. He squinted as he looked down the long, dark hallway to his left. Far down, nearly to the window at the end of the hall was a bright triangle of light on the floor. A door was open.

He began walking cautiously down the hallway. Every step stirred doubts and apprehensions within his mind. He wasn't sure what he was meant to be doing here. He had only been told by the doctor that Simon needed him and that he would have to come here to help him. But this was such a beautiful place. He couldn't understand how Simon needed help here.

"I'll just talk to him," he told himself for the hundredth time that day.

He finally reached the open door which led into a blindingly white room. Theodore raised a hand over his eyes, trying with all his will to keep his eyes from closing.

On the other end of the room, one of the bright panels of light on the floor receded, leaving a perfectly black square in the middle of the luminance. A muffled whirr could be heard as a chair rose from the depths, carrying with it a chipmunk dressed in a cream colored suit and tie. The chair clicked as it stopped moving and the chipmunk seated on it jumped down.

Theodore, still blinded by the lights in the room, saw only a grey silhouette approaching him.

"Simon?" he asked, half hopeful of seeing his brother and half fearful of seeing anyone else.

Tulig assumed his characteristic smile as he approached Theodore with one hand outstretched. The other, Theodore noticed, was tightly closed at his side.

"I am Tulig," he replied to the query. "I am Simon's defender here at The Estate."

"Defender? What are you defending him from?" Theodore asked as he weakly shook Tulig's hand. Tulig shook back for a moment, but was quick to pull away and head back to his desk.

"Oh, from whatever might be out there," he said as he closed out his laptop and swiftly jumped down from the desk again. He was clearly in a hurry.

"I am here doing the very same thing your good doctor is doing, back where you're from."

Theodore smiled. Alvin had warned him to be ready to face enemies here, horrible people trying to keep Simon a prisoner in The Estate. This was frightening to him, but speaking with this man put his mind at ease. Here was another person with Simon's best interests at heart. A friend.

"Is Simon alright? Where is he? I've been sent to talk to him."

"Oh you'll see him, in time. He's presently sleeping, I believe. But now, you mustn't worry about that. Your brother is in good hands. Please, do come in."

"Believe me, it's a relief to hear that. My brother made this place sound so awful."

"Ah, well, seeing a family member in such a negative mental state must be difficult. A shame, really. Family is such an important element in the healing process."

"That's what Dr. Gregor said to me. He wanted…" Theodore trailed off as he noticed Tulig's expression. He wasn't really listening to him anymore, only staring with a smile on his face. Theodore tried his best to smile back.

"You look rather chilled. I'm afraid our climate hasn't been abundantly hospitable as of late."

"It's sort of cold in here, too," Theodore added, remarking to himself how strange it was to be exchanging small talk in a place like this.

Tulig's smile grew. "Here," he said as he took off his suit jacket and handed it to Theodore who immediately put it on. Tulig then invitingly stretched out an arm in the direction of his desk chair.

"Do sit down."

"Thanks," Theodore said happily as he leapt up onto the chair. From over the glass desk, he looked down at Tulig who was hurriedly approaching the door.

"Are you leaving?"

"Oh, I'll be nearby. Just have to step out for a while today. I'm sure you can handle things."

Theodore stood up on the desk chair as his eyes filled with concern. "Handle things?"

Tulig was heading out the door as he spoke. He didn't even bother to look back. "Just answer the phone and keep an eye on Simon. He may feel a bit confined, but you mustn't let him leave. For his own good."

"His… own good."

"Now you've got it. I'll be seeing you later, then."

"Wait," Theodore said, almost forcefully. Tulig turned back, looking him in the eye for the first time since they shook hands.

"I don't know for sure about this," Theodore said with a bit of hesitation creeping back into his voice.

Tulig furrowed his brow and sighed before speaking again. "You do want to help your brother, don't you? You want to protect him from the dangers beyond the gate."

"Well, sure but…"

"You want nothing more than to help him."

"I guess so…"

"And the best way to help him is to be a brother to him."

"Right."

"He needs you, Theodore. He needs you here."

Tulig's smile returned as Theodore nodded quietly.

"Answer the phone, keep an eye on Simon. I'll be around."

Tulig let the door slam behind him as he walked out into the hallway. He walked with a supreme dignity, his feet talking long strides across the carpet and his hands folded neatly behind his back. He was in control, once again. The ease he took in manipulating Theodore proved that to him. This feeling stayed with him as he walked through the automatic door and down the Estate's long driveway. The small figure, just a speck of brown against the dull redness of the driveway, walked tall and proud as he approached the wrought-iron gate. It immediately swung open, coming to a stop with a metal clang that echoed back into the open windows of the house.

Tulig passed the threshold and the gate strained as it pulled itself closed. He then stopped. A blurry flash of lightning shone for a moment, deep within the cloudy sky, illuminating the chipmunk as he turned and began approaching the gate again. In one fluid movement, he removed his white tie with one hand and swept the long piece of fabric around the two middle-most bars of the gate. He raised his other hand, which was still tightly clasped, and stuck out his thumb and index finger to grasp the other end of the tie. Tulig tied a simple knot across the middle of the gate, binding the two halves together. He turned on his heels and headed into the dim forest, leaving the pure whiteness of his tie slowly swaying in the breeze against the stark blackness of the iron as the Estate's massive stone form looked on from behind.

Tulig left no sound behind in the Estate. Everything was silent. Simon slept upstairs, and in the room labeled SHORT TERM, every surveillance screen was blank. Theodore sat alone in the crushing silence and blinding light of the room.

He leaned forward in the chair Tulig had left him in, examining the computer more closely. The machine was dormant; no light, no images, no sound. Blackness.

Theodore raised a hand and tapped its black base. Nothing. A frown began to creep its way onto his face. He had been sent to help his brother. He wasn't doing any good for anyone here. Tulig did ask him to stay and answer the phone, but he felt sure that he could escape for a moment and see Simon.

The chipmunk, still wearing Tulig's white jacket, slid down from his chair and began to walk toward the door.

Just as he reached the door, the red phone on the desk began to ring. It was a piercing ring, the type you would hear from the bells of an old, hand-crank telephone from the early 1900s. However, Theodore could see no bells attached to it. It was just an ordinary red telephone with a cord and a base with a keypad.

He hurriedly leapt up from the floor to the chair to the desk, pushed the phone off the hook and spoke into the receiver.

"Hello?"

No answer.

"H… Hello? Anyone there?"

Still no answer. More than that, there was no dial tone, no static, nothing. Just silence on the other line, assuming of course that there was another line involved.

Theodore, confused but still attentive to his 'job,' heaved the phone back onto the hook. He stood for a few moments staring at the phone, waiting for it to spring back to life and ring again.

Minutes passed. Nothing.

Theodore slid down from the desk again and began tip-toeing toward the door, as if trying not to wake the telephone. Again, just as he reached the threshold of the door, the phone pierced the house's silence with the clanging of tiny bells.

Theodore broke out into a flat run toward the desk, hopping straight from the floor to the glass desk. He slid on the desk's surface, stabilized himself, pushed the phone off the hook again and began speaking.

"H… Hello?" he asked while trying to catch his breath.

Again, there was nothing to be heard from the other line.

"Hello!"

"That's new," said a voice from the entrance to the room. Theodore looked up to see Simon standing in the doorway.

"What is?" Theodore asked, somewhat dumbfounded.

"Both of you," Simon said as he walked closer to the desk. "The ringer… and you."

"Yeah, I can't figure this thing out. It must be on a timer or something. You know, I don't even see any cords on this thing."

Simon simply raised an eyebrow as he stood looking up at the man in the white jacket.

"Anyway," Theodore started again. "I came to see you!"

"I'm sure you have," Simon said with an adversarial level of sarcasm in his tone. Theodore noticed this but was too overwhelmed with happiness to give it any thought.

"So, how've you been?"

Simon began pacing about the room as he responded. "Why? Don't you know?"

"Not… really. I only just got here."

"This I noticed." Simon stopped walking and faced Theodore. "What's wrong? Didn't Tu show you the ropes before he… what? Went on vacation? Got reassigned?"

Theodore couldn't ignore Simon's tone of voice any longer. His eyes narrowed as he cautiously asked him "Simon. Who do you think I am?"

"The New Tu, perhaps?"

Theodore's heart sank. Alvin had been right. Everything he said about Simon not remembering him. Everything he said must have been true.

Theodore started pulling the white jacket off as he spoke. "Simon, you… you don't understand. I don't run this place."

"Of course not!" Simon's sarcasm was painfully evident. "You're just an innocent, here to check up on me. Maybe delve a little deeper than Tu was able to? Get me to talk?"

"Talk about what?" Theodore asked with one arm still caught in the jacket sleeve.

Simon examined Theodore with a suspicious eye. Looking him up and down. Not believing a word he said.

"Exactly."

Simon turned and marched out of the room. Theodore, still caught in Tulig's coat, tried to chase him but fell just short of the door.

"Simon!"

He got to his feet and stepped out into the hallway. And, as soon as he did, the ring from the red phone bombarded his ears. Theodore stood frozen where he was, watching as his brother walked swiftly away.

"Simon!" he continued to yell. "Simon, come back!"

**… ... ... ... ...**

Tuilg continued to march through the forest. The path had long since disappeared and the only thing left to guide him was his intuition. That and the signs. The forest was dotted with sign-posts nailed to the trunks of trees. The first, he had passed almost ten minutes ago, just outside the gate. It read in oppressive, black letters:

**The Estate**

**Population: Unlimited**

But now, the chipmunk was coming across signs he had never seen before. Deep in the forest, further than the Chief Administrator had ever dared venture. Places he had only ever thought about. Here, in the frightening frontier of the Estate's wilderness, there was a sign. A sign, whose light and somewhat whimsical lettering made it all the more sinister,

_Beware of Kites_

The message was perplexing, but no more so than any of the other signs he had come to expect in the forest. He had seen signs that read 'You're Going The Wrong Way,' or 'March Back – Turn Left' or his personal favorite: 'Here Lies Lies.' The forest was full of cryptic messages, all which could mean something or nothing, depending on your perspective.

There were decidedly few times anymore when Tulig could remark at the surreal nature of the Estate. There were very few instances when weirdness became notable above the normal level of oddity, but this was certainly one of them.

Still, his confidence level was too high to be put off by a sign. Tulig looked down at his hand, which was still firmly closed, smiled and continued to walk. He hiked along until he noticed another white sign, almost directly in his path. His interest was stirred and he decided to take a quick detour. When he got close enough to read it, his situation elevated from mildly odd to unpleasantly eerie. The chipmunk stared up at the white sign, nailed to the trunk of a large tree.

Beware of Keys

His blood was running cold. Tulig cautiously looked down as he unfurled his hand. There, in the palm of his tiny hand was a small black key Simon had been given when he arrived at the Estate. The key to the library of the repressed. The key Simon left under the mirror shards in his sink.

He covered the key with his fingers again and stood in the silence of the forest with his eyes tightly shut.

"Not likely," he said to himself. He refused to believe in this. How was he to assume that this sign was meant for him at this particular moment? None of it made any real sense. It was all up to how much he chose to read into it.

Or, at least, that's what he told himself.

In actuality, his powerful sense of confidence had gone and was replaced by a deep sense of uneasiness. Not confusion, dread. The sign may have meaning, it may not. But he wasn't going to let it upset his plan in either case.

Tulig opened his eyes and began to relax a bit. As he did so, he noticed a sound. The sound he'd been tracking was a great deal clearer here.

He cocked his head at the sign as he thought. "Interesting. If I hadn't come over here to read this sign, I may have lost track of it."

He shook his head and walked past the tree, trying to put as much distance between himself and the sign as possible, without moving so fast as to lose track of the sound. He had to keep moving. He didn't want to be holding this key any longer than he had to.

As he marched on in the dim forest, Tulig eventually came to another sign. He was more hesitant about approaching this one, but unfortunately it was directly in his path. He couldn't help but read it.

**Beware of Knives**

Tulig raised an eyebrow. He did not have the time nor the patience to unravel this mystery, even if it seemed to be aimed at him. He ignored the messages the forest provided and instead followed the faint sound of waves crashing.

**… ... ... ... ...**

Theodore peeked his head around the door to Simon's room. He could still hear the phone ringing downstairs, but tried his best to ignore it.

"Simon?" he asked in the quietest and most harmless sounding voice he could manage. He cracked the door a little further.

Simon stood on his balcony, looking out at the grounds with his hands folded behind his back. He turned his head slightly when he heard Theodore enter.

"Cameras not working?" he asked, again with a heavy layer of condescension in his voice.

"Actually nothing downstairs works, except that stupid phone. Everything shut off when Tulig left."

Simon turned to face Theodore, who was still wearing Tulig's jacket.

"He doesn't trust you," he said as he narrowed his eyes, carefully examining this chipmunk who claimed to be his brother.

"What is it?" Theodore asked after the silence in the room became too much for him.

"I'm trying to figure out who you are." He took a few steps closer to Theodore. "You haven't replaced Tu, I know that much. You're not like him."

"I'm not?"

"No. I can see it in you. You don't enjoy seeing me trapped here like he does."

"Is it that bad? Being here, I mean."

Simon's eyes stared back with steely intensity. "You have no idea."

"Tell me."

"Why would I do that?" he fired back, without breaking his gaze.

"Because, it bothers you. Being here. You should talk to me about it. It might help."

"Yes, well that's what they would say. 'Just talk. That's all. Nothing to worry about. We'll just have a friendly little chat,' right?"

"Simon, I don't want anything from you. I just want to talk."

"Talk. As my brother, I suppose."

A faint smile flickered across Theodore's face.

"Even when you know it's a lie."

Theodore's expression melted.

"I don't remember exactly, but I'm certain of a few things. I know you aren't my brother. I only have one, and you aren't him."

Simon's words stung at Theodore.

"Maybe you work for them, I don't know. I just know that this is a lie."

"Simon, you have to stop! You have to trust me or I don't know what will happen. You need to talk to me. Please. I… I just want my brother back."

Theodore was crushed. He began to fear that the doctor was right in suspecting that Simon was trapped. He began to back away from Simon, trying his hardest to fight back tears.

"…And it kills me to see you like this."

Simon stood completely still with no change in expression as he watched Theodore slowly head out of the room.

**… ... ... ... ...**

Tulig stood alone, facing the power of the Ocean as the wind whipped across his face. It was beautiful in his eyes, not because of the color or the intoxicating smell it sent into the air along with the finest mist, but because it was doing its job. Somewhere, beneath the crashing waves was that jeep that kept Simon out of the water. He had seen for himself how effective this solution had been.

And now he was counting on it. It would be the key's last line of defense.

Tulig took a step forward and loosened his grip on the black key in his hand. He moved until his feet were planted just beyond the farthest reaches of the waves. Tulig scarcely blinked.

The chipmunk in white looked down at the key one last time. It was dull, matte black, and covered in little grains of sand collected from Tulig's march over the dunes. It was so small, even in his miniature hands. How could it be a threat?

Tulig focused on the horizon again. He steadied himself. This key was a threat. It was a security risk. Without it, Simon would never be able to access the library or the elevator. Without this key, the truth would always be out of reach.

He tightened his grip one last time, held his arm back over his head, and swung it forward with every bit of force he could muster. The black key whistled as it spun through the air, finally marking the end of its flight with a quiet plunk. Tulig slowly breathed out. It was a weight off his chest, that much was certain.

The ripples the key had made in the water were quickly erased by the waves in the water. One wave caught Tulig's eye, in particular. He watched as it rolled up the shore, and darkened a new patch of sand as it travelled farther than any wave yet. The smallest bit of water made it over Tulig's feet, but with was not what concerned him. Somehow, this wave had carried some sandy form up the shoreline and right to Tulig's side. He reached down, hesitant of what he might find. Rather, hoping that he would not find what he expected.

But his fears were confirmed. Tulig reached down into the sandy, murky water, and pulled out a small black knife. The knife, like the key, was dull black with only essential features. This knife was the mere essence of a blade. No frills, no attachments, not even a shine. Only a sharp edge.

Tulig tightly wrapped his hand around the handle, turned and began his long walk back to the Estate.

**… ... ... ... ...**

Simon stood on the balcony, watching Theodore pitifully trudge back toward the door. He was completely unmoving and resolute in his uncaring, unfeeling expression. His logic told him that he had just defeated one more of Tulig's traps. His soul, however, told him otherwise.

"Theodore!" The chipmunk jumped and immediately stopped walking. Simon began to approach him. His blue eyes shone out with pity at making the younger chipmunk cry like this. He couldn't believe it, but Simon found himself caring about this person's feelings. Here was a man who, by all logic, was working for his captor. And all he could feel was compassion.

"Do you know that feeling," Simon said as he slowly walked toward the saddened and confused chipmunk, "that feeling when you just wake up from a dream. You remember something, something important, just on the edge of your memory. You try to hold on to it, but it stays just out of reach. It's so important. It's truth. Truth in its purest form, and you know it has some… bearing on your life up here."

Theodore stared up at Simon, his sad expressing falling away from his face.

"You tell yourself that you have to remember. But for the life of you, you can't seem to put words to it."

Theodore looked up into Simon's blue eyes, cautiously filling his own with hope.

"My… brother."

"Simon?" Theodore asked softly, in an effort not to derail Simon's train of thought. "Do you remember me? Do you know where we are?"

"Theodore…" Simon said slowly, letting the word hang in the air as he thought. He was speaking as much to Theodore as he was to himself, trying to interpret the situation. Trying, once again, to unravel his confusion.

"This isn't likely," he continued. "Everything I know about him… Everything I've seen tells me that this is a trap. But…"

Theodore stood motionless, trying not to interrupt his brother.

"Should I trust a mad idea? Should I take a… a leap of faith? I'm not usually one for that kind of thing. I stick to facts, and the facts tell me I'm wrong. They tell me that if I trust you, I'll regret it. But I can't shake the idea that…"

Simon dropped his gaze to the floor, trying to collect his thoughts. Theodore remained silent.

"Should I choose to believe something that I want to be true? Should I go against everything my logic says. Ignore all the past tricks, ignore the surrounding circumstances. Should I believe a hope?"

A tear welled up in the corner of one of Simon's blue eyes. Not a tear of sadness, or pain, or guilt, or despair. Tears of intense happiness. An involuntary smile rippled across Simon's face as the memories in his head fell into place like pieces of a jig-saw puzzle.

He snapped his eyes up from the floor and looked his brother straight in the eye.

"Theodore!"

"Simon," Theodore breathed out with a sigh of relief.

"Theodore, where are we?"

"I… can't really explain."

"Right, it doesn't matter. I mean, it won't matter, in the long run. Give me a second!" Simon was visibly excited now. He began pacing back and forth in the room with his hand to his chin, thinking of his next course of action. Thinking of his escape plan.

Finally, he spun around to face his newly rediscovered brother again. "Theodore!"

"Yeah!" Theodore chuckled. This, seeing Simon back in his element, somehow made him happier than he had been in a long time. He had his brother back. For the first time in weeks, he was able to speak to his brother.

"You got here somehow. A car out-front, like the one Alvin took, I assume?" Simon was speaking almost too fast for Theodore to follow. Hopefulness shone through both of their eyes.

"Yeah, it should still be in the driveway."

"And your driver, he'll take us out of here? He'll take us back home? That was the plan for you, right? So, can I come along?"

"I think so."

A wild look grew in Simon's eyes: A potent mix of happiness and hope. He stared right into Theodore's green eyes and smiled.

"Come on. We're leaving."

**… ... ... ... ...**

Tulig trudged back toward the Estate, legs soaked from his time on the beach, fur covered in sand, and a black knife in his right hand.

The iron gate was in sight now, along with the tie Tulig had fastened around its latch. He approached the knot he made and stared into it bleakly. He almost wore a grimace on his face, like something in the Estate had offended him in some deep, unspeakable way.

Tulig made no other move than to raise the knife and slice his tie in half. The gates creaked and Tulig took a step back. Another creek followed. The gates acted like they were reluctant to let him back in, but finally the two halves swung open to allow the Chief Administrator through.

As he walked back toward the house, Tulig noticed something. His tie. His cream colored tie was fluttering in the breeze of the oncoming storm. He stopped walking and stared at it.

The fat half of the tie began to catch wind beneath it while Tulig stood a few feet away, still staring as if to say "I dare you. I dare you to do it."

The tie fluttered again and began to slide off from the gate's latch. Tulig's incredulous stare persisted. But the tie paid this no mind and, in an act of defiance against its former owner, took flight in the wind and began twisting and twirling into the air. It rose higher and higher, leaving Tulig back firmly rooted on the grounds of his Estate. All he could do was watch as this piece of fabric slipped out of view and into the limitless sky.

"There's a storm out there," he thought to himself. "It'll have a hell of a time."

The cream-colored bit of fabric came back into view for a moment, against one particularly dark cloud, and then was gone forever. Tulig turned and walked the last distance to the automatic door.

**… ... ... ... ...**

Simon skidded across the lighted floor as he ran into the room labeled SHORT TERM. He was followed closely by Theodore.

"Simon!" he shouted over the phone that was still ringing. "What are we doing in here? The car's outside!"

"There's something I have to get," he called back, still with a thick layer of excitement coating his every word.

The chipmunk in his blue sweatshirt approached the large metal door in the room and stared into it. He just then realized that he had no idea how to open it. The door to the Estate's archives had always opened for him. He wasn't even sure if it was possible to open it from here.

He squeezed his fingers into the narrow crevice between the halves of the door and began to pull. Theodore watched from the doorway, a sense of pity growing on his face.

"Simon," he spoke in a soft and careful voice, "whatever it is, I'm sure…"

"It's too heavy!" Simon interrupted. "It… won't… open!"

"Simon. Calm down. Everything you need is…"

He interrupted his brother again. "I… have… to… get… in… there!" Simon heaved at the end of every word. "I… have… to… get… her… out!" With this last word, Simon pulled with all of his strength. There was a snap, and Simon inhaled sharply. He looked down on his hands and saw that he had succeeded in tearing off one of his fingernails.

He let himself fall against the door and slowly slide onto the floor, cradling his wounded left hand as he went.

"Simon!" Theodore ran to his brother's side. "Simon, who are you talking about?"

"Jeanette, Theodore," Simon said, thudding his head against the metal door. His eyes were tightly closed. "He has Jeanette locked up in there."

Theodore's face deepened with sadness.

"Simon, Jeanette isn't here. She's…" Theodore stopped mid-sentence. The room was suddenly filled with an unearthly silence. The phone on the desk had been silenced. He then noticed Simon staring intently at something near the door. Theodore turned around to see a disheveled Tulig standing in the archway holding a knife.

Simon climbed back to his feet. Theodore was caught in the middle of the two of them, engaged in another one of their staring contests.

Simon was the first to break the silence.

"A knife? Really? I thought you had a bit more finesse than that."

"And I thought you had learned your lesson," Tulig retorted in his heavy accent. "You've tried escaping before. You've seen." He took a few steps into the room, still leaving a considerable amount of space between himself and his prisoner.

"There is no out. You could leave and you would still be in. You could be back at home in your bed, and you would still be right here with me."

"Theodore got in. He can get back out." Simon then took a few steps forward to mirror Tulig's action. "And he can take me with him."

A perverse smile grew across Tulig's face. That insufferable smile that made Simon want to strangle him.

"Ah yes, your brother. How have you two been getting along? Theodore, does he remember you?"

Simon's expression changed. A scowl formed across his brow and he glared down at Theodore.

"You." This single word of Simon's cut into Theodore's spirit. It felt like the single most adversarial thing he had ever heard Simon say.

"You liar."

"Simon," Theodore pleaded, still sitting on the floor. "Simon, I'm not lying to you."

"Shut up. You're just like him, you know. You're just another cog in the machine. And you let me believe you were my brother."

"Simon. You… You said you believed me. I…" The chipmunk's eyes began to well with tears.

"You can stop this. Do you hear me? Stop it! You're not my brother. You couldn't possibly be."

"Si… mon…" Theodore sobbed, "I just wanted to…"

"You're not fooling anyone! Either of you!"

Tulig spoke up from across the room. "What's this, Simon? A change of heart?"

"A change of mind. You just wanted me to believe he was my brother. This is just another one of your traps, isn't it?"

"Is it?"

"Yes! Because if you say it, it can't be tr…"

Simon's eyes widened. He looked back down at Theodore apologetically, and then snapped a glare right at Tulig. The two took a few steps closer to the center of the room.

"Are you telling me this because it's the truth, or are you telling me this so I won't trust the truth?"

Tulig simply grinned.

"What truth?"

"Stop it," Simon said, voice trembling with anger as he audibly tried to calm himself.

"The truth of your brother? The truth of your imprisonment?"

"Stop. Tell me the truth."

"The truth of the Estate?"

"Tell me the truth."

"What about Jeanette's truth?"

"TELL ME THE TRUTH!"

Simon lunged at the smiling chipmunk, knocking him to the floor. The two slid back along the smooth, lighted tile. As Tu hit the floor, the black knife was thrown from his hand and slid back with the two chipmunks.

Equal height, equal strength. The fight could have gone on for hours, but Tulig was refusing to fight back. Simon had him by the collar with one hand, and reached out for the knife with the other. He held the knife to Tulig's throat. Hate pulsed through his hands. Every beat of his heart felt like it should be the one. Every wave of hatred felt like it would send him over the edge and make him into a killer.

Just this one man, this one wretched man. He would be doing the world a favor. 'Murder in the public interest.' He wouldn't have any guilt. None at all.

Just a bit of blood on his hands.

"I'll kill you!" Simon shouted in Tulig's face.

Tulig moved his face closer to Simon's, pushing the knife further into his own neck. He stared directly into Simon's eyes as he spoke.

"And you'll die."

Simon dropped the knife and backed away, still on his knees. He stared deeply into Tulig's face. No more anger. No more hatred shone in his eyes, only astonishment.

"Tell me the truth," he whispered.

"I will, Simon. I will happily tell you the truth, just as soon as you decide on one."

Tulig got to his feet and adjusted his

"There is no one truth. I cannot provide you with one answer. Everyone's truth is different. So, now you have to decide: what is yours? Are you an innocent prisoner, or a murder who deserves his fate?"

Simon stood up. He took one quick look back at his brother and then looked on at Tulig again. His heartbeat slowly was returning to normal. Without saying a word, he raised his arms away from his sides, flinging a bit of blood from his hand onto the pristine white floor.

Tulig nodded, snapped his fingers, and was soon joined in the room by four guards wearing black, wet raincoats. Two rushed over to Theodore, picked him up and carried him out of the room. The other two stayed behind Tulig.

He walked closer to Simon and stared him in the face.

"You've made your choice."

Simon didn't flinch as one guard presented a needle and drove it into his neck. The familiar white lights began to cloud his vision, and the two guards took him by his outstretched arms. They lifted him from the floor and began to carry him from the room.

Suddenly, Simon began to speak. His voice was strained and his speech was slurred, but he managed.

"Tu."

There was another snap, and the guards turned to allow Simon to face his captor. Tulig merely stood with one eyebrow raised.

Simon struggled to keep his eyes open. He did the best he could to stare into Tulig's face as he spoke two soft words.

"Answer it."

With that, the red phone began to ring. Tulig stood, not looking surprised in the least, and stared at Simon as his eyes rolled back and sleep took hold.

* * *

**There you have it. As I said, more is to come in the very near future.**

**Let me know what you think so far.**

**Reviews are appreciated.**


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